


heart lines

by mysterytwin



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Confessions, Crushes, Falling In Love, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Long Distance Pining, M/M, Manga Spoilers, Mutual Pining, Rated T for swearing, Slow Burn, idiots to lovers, sky/ocean metaphors, they fall in love but it takes them years before they finally get it right
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-10
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:55:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 205,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26385244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mysterytwin/pseuds/mysterytwin
Summary: Hinata swears he’ll rewrite the ending. Kageyama’s been waiting his whole life for the beginning.This is a love story.
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio
Comments: 205
Kudos: 268





	1. falling for you

**Author's Note:**

> HAPPY KAGEHINA DAY!!!!!!!
> 
> this fic was born out of my many kagehina brain worms and my need to see them pine over each other for years!!! this also contains heavy manga spoilers and i apologize in advance if there are any inconsistencies within canon since there is only so many things the haikyuu timeline wikia page can tell me
> 
> this is also for [chubsonthemoon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chubsonthemoon/pseuds/chubsonthemoon) because she’s wonderful and i appreciate her very much <3
> 
> i also made a playlist which you can find **[here!!](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0tPRilBHwRfwIygCi2mTI5?si=eyKU_gQkSHqAii0unM0k_w)** there will also be many taylor swift, richard siken, and fleabag references because i couldn't help myself
> 
> hope you enjoy!!!

Hinata knows this story. It is an old story.

It’s a story that speaks of rose-colored skies and white-gold sunlight on freckled skin, of laughter that rings bright and loud and true on paths homebound. Hands that brush against each other as they sway, side by side, one bold move that has them pulling together and intertwining, stolen glances with blushes warming cheeks. Hushed whispers covered by the shadows, only heard under the covers, skin so close that it feels as though just wanting is enough, secrets that bear a heart laid open, and asking for vulnerability but never giving it in return. Friends put to the test with an ache in the chest that learns to sing a song of yearning, and words that never leave the tongue, a confession that spills out only when the other isn’t listening. Oceans to cover the distance that only grows, until it dies and dies and dies, a thousand lifetimes over, and there is nothing left but a dusty book on the shelf and a story that never learns enough to stop repeating.

This is a love story.

It’s a love story, but Hinata won’t admit it. That would mean to accept it, and it’s the last thing he wants to do. He just wishes it had a better ending.

But he’s already decided that it won’t be a problem. Not anymore, not for him, because he swears he’ll rewrite it all. He’ll find the right words and he’ll change it before it even reaches breakeven. It won’t shape into another tragedy, or be filled with the longing stares and the empty promises. And maybe that’ll be the easy part, because there was only one that really mattered.

Just one promise, and they named it _invincibility_.

So he’ll rewrite it. He’ll rewrite this whole life and this whole story, and it’ll be so different that the papercuts won’t cause him to bleed, and that he’ll run his fingers over the words and he won’t find any tear stains. He’ll rewrite it all so well that he won’t be able to see beyond it. He’ll stop before it gets too much, and he’ll hold himself enough to fall short of it, and maybe it’s wrong of him to do so, but he knows just as well that it’s definitely not going to go right either, and perhaps love stories are just words woven with warnings for young boys like him to run away while they still can.

Hinata knows this story. He knows the ending. And he’s decided to leave before he gets there. Cut his losses, quit while he’s ahead, before it can cause any damages on paper-thin hearts, reflect pain back on ocean-glass eyes staring at him. Before it can even get the chance to hurt him.

Because Hinata has seen this all before, and he knows the truth: that this love story is better called a tragedy instead, and no other title can cover that up. That for it to be a tragedy must mean that it held something so beautiful, so extraordinary, that it became more than two bright-eyed countryside boys could handle; that it grew too big inside their chests and exploded into something so grand and devastating, it shaped into the same phenomena that causes kingdoms to slowly crumble, because there are just some gaps caused by distance that can’t be bridged by time. That tragedies don’t have happy epilogues, and stories like these only end in ruin.

Hinata knows this story. He knows it better than anything else.

Kageyama does too.

This is how it begins: two boys, facing each other with a pink-streaked sky for them to carry on their shoulders, and a declaration of war said loud enough for the heavens to hear it.

The wind whispers something inaudible, but it is a revelation, the fulfillment of a promise. It is the words an old man once told his grandson, memorized over and over about better players and being found. It is something that they both don’t know just yet, but will learn about eventually. It is for the same reason that they won’t fall in love so much as they will grow into it, two lost souls learning to share the spaces left empty by the other. It is not the best beginning, and it could’ve gone a lot better—but it is the most honest version of it. It is honest, and it is true, and it is what they will learn to be patient for. It is wholly _them_.

And in time, they will get there.

After all, in order to reach the ending, you must first start at the beginning.

It is raining in the summer, and Shouyou is contemplating just how high he’d have to jump to reach the sky.

A little more realistically, just how high he’d have to go to touch a cloud, if it would feel as soft as it looks, like the cotton candy Natsu always asks him to get at festivals, or if it would just simply dissolve the moment he touched it. If the blue around him would overwhelm the rest of his body, the sky even bigger than the sea, or what the rest of the world would look up so high, when he isn’t the only one called small anymore.

What would it feel like to fall from such a great height?

The thunder rumbles, breaking him out of his reverie, and Shouyou blinks repeatedly to focus back on the solid ground beneath his feet. He’s standing by the entrance of the gym, back facing the long nets and the fluorescent lights and the dancing shadows in the corners. The captain had called for a break since they’d been going at it for a while, three practice sets in a row. Shouyou fixes his gaze to the sky, where it’s dipped in monochrome, and light makes blurry outlines on the clouds. The air hangs humid before him, and he swears that the sun was still shining around noon, hot and heavy, and that no one had seen this storm coming.

The rain brings a white haze to the rest of the field, and he can barely see beyond the downpour’s veil, drowning out every other noise other than the water hitting the ground. He can feel the mist just by standing close to it, how fast and strong it is, like a well-timed spike hitting over and over a million times without end. He wonders briefly, if this is why the rain comes, because the sky misses the land more than anything, and this is its way of saying hello.

“What are you staring at?” Kageyama asks, appearing by Shouyou’s side. He looks at Shouyou with a curious expression on his face and the slightest downturn of a frown, unsure of what’s happening. His eyes look a lot like a storm, Shouyou realizes, like his own blue is reflecting back on the sky above. Or maybe that’s where the rest of the sky is, held within Kageyama’s eyes for safekeeping as the rain passes. That’d be pretty cool, wouldn’t it? Maybe he’ll believe in it. “There’s nothing there.”

“There’s the rain,” Shouyou supplies, half-shrugging. “And I was just thinking, mostly.”

Kageyama looks out the door before turning back to him. “About what?” he says. In all honesty, Shouyou is a little surprised by the sincerity in Kageyama’s question, like he genuinely wants to know what’s going on in Shouyou’s head and understand it.

But looking back, maybe he shouldn’t really be, not anymore. Over the last few months, to his own shock, he’s learned that there is a whole lot more to Kageyama Tobio than he’d originally thought—which was just that he was arrogant as hell, liked milk to an insane degree, and was extremely skilled at volleyball. And while they’re still true things, it turns out that there are other parts of him too.

One of them being that Kageyama is actually _nice_.

It’s not all that obvious, and even then it’s not too often, but he _is_. A quiet sort of caring that only shines through when everything is loud enough to cover it all up, but Kageyama does care about other people. And maybe that means that he cares about Shouyou too, like when he buys Shouyou juice from the vending machine when he goes to get milk, or when he tries to share his homework answers to help Shouyou when he forgets to do his, even when it’s (misguidedly) all wrong. It’s just another truth he’s come to learn: that Kageyama is nice. He always has been—it’s just taken Shouyou a while to see it.

And now he welcomes it.

“What do you think it would be like,” Shouyou tells him as lightning flashes through the sky, blinding white against dark gray, “to fall from the sky?”

Kageyama only looks confused, but opens his mouth to give his opinion anyway. “It would hurt, wouldn’t it?” he says, like it’s obvious. His eyes catch silver with the remnants of lightning, and Shouyou thinks that maybe the rest are caught in his irises too, just waiting to be let out. “You’d probably die, dumbass.”

“I know that!” Shouyou argues, feeling a warm flush rise to his cheeks. Kageyama looks at him skeptically, and Shouyou huffs, crossing his arms. “But don’t you think it would be a little cool, at least? To see everything from up so high?”

He imagines being windswept, carried by air currents he can’t see, up and up and up until it’s like his whole world can be placed in the palm of his hand. Until all he knows is the top of the world, and never has to be afraid of looking down.

Kageyama nods, but Shouyou can tell that he’s already thinking about other things, presumably volleyball-related thoughts, and perhaps it might be best if Shouyou sticks to the dreams that remain tethered to the ground instead of chasing after dandelion wishes like this one. Still, it doesn’t hurt, and dreams are what’s gotten him this far anyway, right?

Kageyama probably thinks all of this is stupid.

“You know what?” Shouyou says, ready to backpedal as fast and smooth as he can. “Never mind, let’s just—”

“You’ll reach the top,” Kageyama says, ignoring Shouyou, his eyes no longer trained on the sky, but set directly on Shouyou’s own. “The top of the world. Maybe not like what you mean, but at least in volleyball, you will. Isn’t that what you said before? You’re not going back on it, are you?”

“What? Of course not!” Shouyou says, scowling. Setting his expression into something more determined, he looks straight up back at Kageyama and says, “I still—I’m still going to beat you! No matter how long it takes, I’ll get there. I’ll get there, and I’ll make you see me.”

“Good,” Kageyama says with a nod, satisfied. Then with one more look at the sky, the rain letting up slowly, drop by drop, he takes a deep breath, and looks back at Shouyou. Then, with a small smile, eyes flashing into something lighter, something _important,_ he says, “But until then, I’ll be here to help you fly.”

And perhaps it’s a magic of some sort, or a heavenly force that he doesn’t understand and can’t describe, but it’s like a flick of a switch. The rain stops all at once, turning quiet so suddenly, and the clouds lighten up into a paler version of themselves. Sunlight breaks through the gaps, and shines down to dance with golden sunbeams, peppering light kisses on the ground.

And Shouyou stands there, right at the edge of it, eyes wide in awe. But he isn’t looking at the sunny sky. Instead, his gaze is caught on Kageyama Tobio, bathed in the new gentle light, and he looks like something Shouyou’s never seen before. Something entirely new altogether, and it causes Shouyou’s pulse to beat butterfly-quick in his chest for a reason he can’t quite define. It’s almost reckless, the way his heart is doing star jumps with the threat of escaping, but Shouyou can’t do anything to calm it down. He’s stuck watching the way Kageyama looks breathtakingly beautiful, even in sweaty practice clothes, and his eyes turn a million shades lighter with the rainlight sky to keep inside in exchange for the sun.

Maybe that’s another thing he didn’t notice about Kageyama. That he can be a world wonder without even trying.

Kageyama decides to turn back to him at that moment, just as the captain calls them all back to resume practice. Shouyou’s heart is caught in his throat with the words that he doesn’t have, and he tries to steel his expression into something more calm.

It doesn’t work, apparently, since Kageyama looks at him funny, and at this point he must be completely confused with everything Hinata’s been up to today.

“Oi, are you okay?” Kageyama asks him, eyebrows knit together in worry. “You look weird.”

“Fine! I’m—I’m fine!” Shouyou scrambles to say, bringing a hand up to rub the back of his neck. His face feels warm. Really, really warm. Hopefully he can just pass it off as exhaustion. “It was kinda sudden, the rain stopping, that’s all.”

Kageyama shoots him another look, not quite buying it, but he seems to let it go eventually. He begins to step away from the entrance, turning back to Shouyou, and gestures to the net with his head, “You coming?”

And just then, Shouyou feels his lungs expand with something he can’t quite name, something he’s on the brink of understanding, tied in with a little relief. His heart is still racing and his mind can’t keep up, but he has a feeling that he won’t really mind what’s at the finish line. Maybe it’ll be a good prize. A happy ending to all of this. He can’t really be bothered to think about it too hard right now, so maybe it’s better to just let it be, and see what comes out of it. Maybe it’ll even be something extraordinary.

He hopes so. He really hopes so.

“Yeah,” Shouyou says with a grin, jogging over to meet him, standing beside him on the court. He finds his footing, and comes back to where his dreams are rooted: here, in this gym, with a team full of people he can depend on. With a partner he can trust.

_What do you think it would be like to fall from the sky?_

Looking up, Shouyou watches as Kageyama smiles, small and genuine and beautiful, and unknowingly learns of a different type of falling altogether.

“Don’t you ever get tired of milk?”

Tobio looks at the blue box he holds on his hand, at the little giraffe drawn on the cardboard. He takes another sip. “No,” he answers, half-shrugging. “It’s good. Helps you grow.”

Hinata shakes his head. “Never helped me,” he mutters bitterly, and Kageyama can’t help the little smile that rises unwittingly to his lips. Pointing at Tobio’s lunch, he asks, “Are you gonna finish your tomatoes?”

“You can have them,” Tobio says, and he holds out his bento box to Hinata.

“You can take some of mine then,” Hinata offers, as he picks out the carrots squished to the edge and drops them into Tobio’s lunch. Tobio watches him move, the way the sunlight filters through the leaves of the tree they’re under, dropping sunbeams on Hinata’s skin, turning patches of him even more radiant than he already is. His hair looks like it’s catching gentle fire, a warm hearth. “A fair trade.”

“Thanks,” Tobio says simply, looking away before Hinata catches him, and returns back to his milk box. His stomach feels funny—squishy, like his rice had been, but he knows it isn’t hunger.

Hinata hums lightly, a catchy pop song that Tanaka’s always singing in the club room before practice. They finish their meals in silence, and Tobio throws his milkbox away when he’s done with it, walking over back to where Hinata sits, resting against the tree with a calm expression on his face.

“Are you thinking about the sky again?” Tobio asks when he takes the spot next to him. If he’s being really honest, he’s not entirely sure how they’d come to an agreement like this in the first place. Hinata had just pulled Tobio out of his classroom one day, told him they were going to have lunch together and practice a little afterwards, and somehow they never really stopped. Sometimes they don’t even practice, too caught up in another one of Hinata’s stories or hypothetical scenarios, and Tobio feels like he should be at least annoyed or confused, but he isn’t. He likes this, whatever they have, whatever’s just beginning, invisible strings coming to connect them.

It’s shaped a lot like friendship.

Friendship that Tobio doesn’t have much experience for, like he’s a little boat in a big ocean, trying to reach stability and figure out just which way will lead him back home. He wonders if he’ll drown, or if the sea will be kind and tell him secrets instead.

For a moment, he’s reminded of when he and Hinata had fought over their quick—and there’s a heavy weight that settles on his chest when he remembers what it was like, to have Hinata avoid him while they were still figuring things out. He doesn’t want that to happen ever again.

“Nah,” Hinata says, eyes turning over to look at him, shaking his head slightly. The sunbeams follow his movements, like a slow dance on a boy’s skin.

“What is it then?” Tobio says back. He doesn’t know why he’s suddenly so curious, not when the only things that have ever mattered to him are volleyball, but he figures that this just might be a side effect of finally having a friend.

Hinata shrugs, and points to a cloud. With a serious expression, he asks, “Okay, you gotta be honest with me, Bakageyama. Does that look more like a cat or a frog?”

Tobio eyes the cloud in question, the wispy, puffy white thing floating aimlessly over their heads. “Cat,” he decides. “The edges look like they could be the ears. And there’s a tail there, I think. I don’t know.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought too,” Hinata says, smiling. “What about that one next to it? Definitely a star, right?”

He squints. “I guess so. Could be a starfish then?”

Hinata snaps his fingers. “Yeah! Exactly!” he exclaims, and his grin is so bright that Tobio thinks looking directly at the sun might be less blinding, and looks away. There’s the funny feeling again. “Ooooh, that next one. What do you think?”

“A…bird?” Tobio wonders out loud.

Hinata nods. “What if it’s a crow? It could be like us!”

Tobio doesn’t know enough about the bodily structure of a crow to differentiate it from any other bird to confirm or deny it—just that the cloud looks like it has wings, and it honestly could be any other bird if he willed it—but he agrees anyway, because once Hinata has set his mind to something, he won’t see it any other way. Even in simple things like cloud-watching, he supposes.

Hinata stretches out his arm like he’s trying to grab it. “Then we’ll fly too! We’ll fly as high as them!”

He nods, eyes finding Hinata’s, and knows that it’ll be true. With more certainty than he’d ever known, he says, “To the top of the world, remember?”

Hinata grins. “I’ll meet you there.”

It’s just like that, then. Maybe other people aren’t as competitive with their friends as they are, but Tobio figures that it’s just the way they are. And if it works for them, then there’s nothing about it that needs changing. It’s a new thing, this friendship, and Tobio doesn’t have much practice, but he’s determined to see it through. Even if it’s not conventional, even if others might call it weird, it’s how they work. It’s _theirs_. And Tobio will do anything to keep it.

And so it goes.

By the time practice ends, the sun is halfway home in the horizon, sinking into the hills and taking the colors with it. With Spring High Qualifiers fast approaching, they’ve been practicing longer and harder, and Tobio is beginning to feel the steady thrum under his bones with anticipation. He’s excited and he’s nervous, and he has no idea what’s going to happen. There’s still a long road ahead of him, and he’s going to make it all the way to the top.

After all, he promised Hinata he would.

Wiping the sweat off his forehead as he changes out of his practice clothes, Tobio listens as Nishinoya recounts another one of his stories that seem almost too unrealistic, but possible enough for a guy like him. He’s got Hinata hooked on every word. Tanaka barks out a high peal of laughter while Daichi teases Asahi about one of his serves, and Tsukishima snickers over something Yamaguchi said in the far corner. It feels a lot like another day, simple enough without too much to worry, and it helps Kageyama relax, his shoulders loosening tension after a few hours well-spent analyzing his tosses.

It’s not that Tobio is worried they’ll lose after their first match, though that’s always a possibility. He has faith in his teammates after all; he knows that they’ll all do their best, and that they’re all highly capable. It’s taken some time, but he trusts them just as they trust him, and they wouldn’t have gotten this far without it. They’ve built themselves from the ground up, from the concrete itself, and they’ll do whatever it takes to be able to soar in the skies. He knows that much.

They’ll be fine.

Looking around at all his teammates, his _friends_ , Tobio knows they will be. They’re all just countryside high school boys, but Tobio knows that they’ll go far, and he’ll make sure to do his best to take this team even further. By some peculiar force, his gaze catches on Hinata’s fiery existence, just as it always does, where he’s bouncing on his toes with excitement, zipping around the club room to fill the walls with chatter. Something tugs at his chest then, like a soft pull made from air as he watches Hinata’s smile light up the room, and it feels a lot like…longing? But for what, exactly? Tobio tries to understand it, but the revelation seems to be made out of smoke, disappearing before he can even reach it.

A hand claps on his shoulder, and Tobio jumps slightly in surprise. Looking to his right, he finds Sugawara’s sunny smile, wide and reassuring, with just the slightest glint of mischief in his eyes. Aside from being a reliable senpai, Sugawara always seems to be up to something these days. Tobio doesn’t know if he quite trusts it.

“So,” Sugawara says, and immediately Tobio knows that he doesn’t, and that the older setter is probably-most-definitely up to no good. “Whatcha lookin’ at Kageyama?”

Tobio tilts his head in confusion. “I’m looking at you?”

Sugawara waves a hand. “No, no. Before that.” His voice drops to a whisper, changed into something more like a secret. “You were staring at Hinata.”

Tobio flushes, eyes widening. “I wasn’t!” he exclaims, horrified, feeling his face turn exceedingly warm in an instant.

Sugawara only hums, undeterred, and Tobio has never seen anyone move their eyebrows like that before. “It’s okay, my precious kouhai. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

His confusion only grows. “I don’t understand. What are you talking about?”

Sugawara’s eyes turn enormous, like he’s just realized something, and then he’s nodding furiously, clapping Tobio’s shoulder repeatedly. “I see,” he says, and Tobio wonders what that must be like, because he, quite frustratingly, _does not see_. “Alright, then. I’ll leave you to it. It’s only a matter of time, I believe.”

“Are you talking about my tosses today?” Tobio asks him, grasping at straws, hoping for any sort of answer that makes sense at all. “I know my last few ones were a bit off, but I’ll be well-adjusted for everyone’s favorite kinds by tomorrow.”

Sugawara laughs, and shakes his head, a knowing smile on his lips that’s beginning to drive Tobio insane. Is he missing something here? He definitely is. “No worries. You did well today, as always,” Sugawara reassures him lightly. “I’m talking about something different. Something more _feelings_ -oriented. Ah, well, I’m sure you’ll understand soon. I’ll see you tomorrow, bright and early!”

“Okay…?” Tobio says, and decides to leave Sugawara’s cryptic messages be. Maybe people just get weirder as they get older, or Sugawara’s just messing with him. It might be a mix of both. Maybe he can ask Hinata what he thinks, since he usually has a better grasp on people.

Slowly, the club room empties out, and Tobio packs his things into his bag. Slinging it over his shoulder, he announces his goodbye, and opens the door, welcoming the breezy evening air. The sun’s nearly gone in the sky now, placing everything in pinks and oranges, tinges of deep blue slowly creeping over the sky. Stars are beginning to peek out like freckles underneath a warm sun, and the thought of that reminds him of something else that he isn’t ready to give a name to.

Just as he’s almost to the school gate, he hears a familiar voice call out for his name, and it’s scary how familiar it is. How easily he welcomes it, when it used to be a nuisance. Maybe he’s sailing a little closer to home than he’d realized.

“Kageyama! Wait up!” Hinata shouts, running over to him. Briefly, Tobio wonders if it’ll turn into another race, already preparing himself to sprint—but then Hinata stops short of where Tobio stands, lightly panting. “You walk past Sakanoshita, right? We can walk home together!”

Tobio blinks at him. “Okay,” he says. A part of him wonders if this is just a one-time event, or if Hinata expects this to become a Thing between them. (Secretly, he hopes it’s the latter. It would be nice not to have to walk alone.)

“So what did you think?” Hinata asks him as they stop by the bike racks for him to unlock his bike, and he rolls it in the space between them.

“About what?”

“Nishinoya-senpai’s story!” he answers, eyes lighting up with excitement. “It was really cool, don’t you think? He’s amazing! Weren’t you listening?”

Tobio shrugs. “Not really. I only heard the first part.”

Hinata frowns, squinting up at him. “Well, anyway,” he says. “It was super awesome! I can’t believe he did all that, especially without getting caught! I don’t think I could tell stories as exciting as Nishinoya-senpai does, though.”

“You tell stories just fine. You can be pretty loud, but your voice is okay,” Tobio says, without much thinking. Once he does register what he just said, a split-second too late, he immediately regrets it, feeling his face burn with embarrassment. “Actually, uh—”

“Oh my god, really? Kageyama, do you really think so!” Hinata says, but they’re less questions than they are declarations, and Tobio looks away, trying to hide his face with his hands. “You do, don’t you!”

“Shut up, I never said anything,” Tobio mumbles, hating how the mortification seeps through his body like a heavy wave of heat. He shouldn’t have said it like that, maybe never spoken at all, because Hinata knows what it _means_. Somehow, he’d gotten it into his head that whenever Tobio thought something was _just okay_ or _fine_ or _alright_ , it actually translated to something he found _pretty cool_ or more or less _awesome,_ as Hinata would say. So now he’s under the impression that Tobio _likes_ his stories.

(Which, to be honest, is actually true, but that’s not the point here.)

“You totally do!” Hinata exclaims, and he’s bouncing on his toes, getting closer to Tobio, face blown wide with a toothy grin. “You like my voice! _Kageyama likes my voice!”_

“ _Shut up,”_ he hisses, hoping that Hinata will listen this time, groaning into his hands. “I don’t—I didn’t—that’s not what I meant, you dumbass.”

“Nuh-uh! No take backs, Kageyama! There’s no point in lying, ‘cause you wouldn’t be this embarrassed if it wasn’t true,” Hinata says, and there are actual _sparkles_ in his eyes, what the hell. “And I think it’s sweet! It just means we’re good friends now.”

“Oh my _god,_ ” Tobio says, and he hates this, maybe this is why he never made friends to begin with, and he takes it all back, all of it, this is dumb and stupid and embarrassing—

“And for what it’s worth, I like listening to you too! Even when you mostly shout sometimes, it can be pretty nice when you’re just talking. You should share more stories, you know,” Hinata says, pink glittering the tops of his cheekbones, and it stops Tobio right in his tracks, whirring around to look at the middle blocker properly.

“You—what?” he croaks out, and it feels like his heart is failing him, and he wonders vaguely what sort of crimes he did in his past life to deserve this. The heat on his face grows even warmer, and not even the breeze can cool it down.

“I like your voice too!” Hinata says easily, a pleased flush to his ears, and Tobio has no idea how he can do stuff like this—spill his feelings like they’re not heavy things his heart has learned to carry over the years, like he isn’t afraid of drowning in them.

“Stupid,” is all Tobio can manage to say, pointedly looking away, and choosing instead to focus on the road before him. “You can’t say stuff like that. It’s embarrassing!”

“Yeah, a bit,” Hinata admits, but the cheeky grin is still on his face, and Tobio wants to wipe it off.

“A _bit?_ ”

“Okay, okay,” Hinata says, raising an arm in surrender. “I’ll stop. But that just means we’re friends, you know? You can’t be friends with someone and not get used to the way they sound.”

Tobio hums, placid. Hinata’s words are still ringing loudly in his ears, and he wants to make it stop. It almost makes him miss the days when Hinata was afraid of him.

( _Almost_. He can’t deny that this is…nice. It’s nice too.)

“I mean,” Hinata says, and the change in his tone startles Tobio. He sounds unsure, as though he’s trying to balance his weight without the certainty of which side will be safer. “We _are_ friends, right? Kageyama?”

When Tobio finally looks at him, he finds the quiet determination that always seems to favor Hinata’s features, but there’s a nearly-missed current of nervousness there too. Hinata looks at him head-on, with eyes made from the sunset itself, bright and golden with flecks of the evening wrapped around inside his irises, like the sun is setting within him instead of the horizon. Tobio feels his mouth run dry at the extraordinariness of it all; what kind of person do you have to be, to be able to hold the sun inside of you?

Hinata Shouyou is a curiosity all on his own. Tobio wonders if he’ll ever be able to understand all of it.

“Yeah,” he says, and it comes out sure and strong, but softer and fonder than he would’ve liked. “Yeah, we’re friends.”

And Hinata beams, so incredibly bright, and Tobio is inexplicably drawn to him like a moth to flame, but he could care less about getting burned. Maybe he should, because it’s dangerous, and boys like Hinata aren’t the type to ever hold back, but Tobio will do his best to keep pace. It’s what he’s good at. It’s what he’s been doing for years.

Finally, they reach the intersection of where their paths diverge, and Tobio stops by the streetlight, not sure of where to go from here. His home isn’t too far from here, not as Hinata’s is, so it won’t take too long for him to walk there. He’s already dreading all the homework he has to face.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Kageyama!” Hinata says, hopping on his bike. Even when the moon comes up to bid them hello, his eyes still carry the sun, and Tobio is entranced by it. “Make sure you bring some good stories with you, okay?”

“Dumbass,” Tobio says without any bark, feeling the heat crawl back to his cheeks like it never left. Hinata laughs, a sweet sound that fills the air, echoing in the oncoming night. “See you tomorrow.”

And then Hinata’s off, pedaling up the mountain, and Tobio is stuck at the foot of the hill, watching him go. He’s not really sure what happened, to be honest. His heart feels like it’s flipping in his chest for reasons he can’t explain, but he’s sure that Hinata is the cause of it. And he’s not all that certain he wants to find out why.

So Tobio decides it’s a matter for another day, tucks the memories into his pocket, and heads home. He’s already got so much to think about, and he’s not going to let the likes of _Hinata Shouyou_ bother him for the rest of the night, either. He can think about it some other time.

(He doesn’t, however, fully succeed in keeping Hinata’s sunset eyes out of his mind. Especially when walking home together decidedly does become a _Thing_ between them, and Tobio is faced with the dilemma of the similarities between Hinata and the sun nearly every day.

But he must admit—it’s not all bad.)

“Has Sugawara-san been talking weirdly to you lately?” Kageyama asks him one day, plopping down to sit next to him while the team rests on break. “He keeps saying things that don’t make sense.”

Shouyou sets his water bottle down, glancing over to where the aforementioned setter is striking up a conversation with their captain. Nothing seems to be out of the ordinary, and every interaction Shouyou has had with Sugawara has been on the same level of weird and gentle mixed together as it’s always been.

“No?” he says to Kageyama, who’s got a frown on his face and his eyebrows pinched together. It’s a funny look on him. “What kinda stuff has he been saying?”

Kageyama flushes almost instantly, quickly averting his eyes. “Just—weird stuff,” he says, and Shouyou quirks up an eyebrow at his vagueness. Kageyama’s usually pretty blunt about things. “He keeps saying that I’ll know what he’s talking about eventually, but I don’t know when _eventually_ is.”

Hinata hums thoughtfully, before gasping in a striking revelation. “Kageyama!” he says, trying to keep his voice low. He pulls Kageyama’s arm to bring him a little closer, causing him to lean down to where Hinata holds up a hand to whisper in his ear. “Do you think—what if Sugawara-san’s psychic?”

“Psychic? What the hell does that mean?”

“Shh! Not so loud!” Shouyou says, looking around them. Thankfully, no one seems to have heard them. “You know, like he can read minds and stuff? Or see the future!”

“Then if he can read minds, why are you making it seem like it’s a secret? He’d know if we figured it out, wouldn’t he?” Kageyama points out, and that truly does have Shouyou stumped. It’s a good question.

“Well, maybe. But just in case! What if everyone finds out and he’s not allowed to be on the team anymore?” Shouyou sneaks another glance at the older setter, where he’s still caught up in a conversation with the other third-years. No one still seems to have noticed. Sugawara isn’t onto them yet.

Kageyama thinks it over before nodding. “Then what should I do? What do you think he’s talking about?”

“I’d be able to answer that better if you _told_ me what he was telling you, you know,” Shouyou says, taking another sip of his water bottle. Kageyama’s cheeks color a light brush of pink all the way over the bridge of his nose. Shouyou feels something warm squirm in his stomach, and thinks to himself that blushing is a good look on Kageyama. “Is it really that weird? That you can’t even say it?”

He squints. “It’s not something illegal, is it?”

“What? No!” Kageyama says, the pink only deepening into something more rosy. He’s not looking at Shouyou again, his eyes trained on the wall meters away from them. “It’s not like _that_ , dumbass!”

“Then you wanna tell me so I can help?” Shouyou can’t help himself from being curious. What if Sugawara really is psychic? That would be so cool! Maybe he could tell Shouyou how to become one too, and then he could read Kageyama’s mind whenever he isn’t really saying what he means. But then he doesn’t really need to, because he can usually figure it out anyway, and Kageyama usually comes around to clarify when the words don’t come through all that smoothly. Maybe he could use it to understand Tsukishima instead. Figure out how to annoy him better. Now _that_ would be fun.

“I can’t,” Kageyama says, a little helplessly, sighing. “It’s embarrassing, alright? And I don’t really know how to explain it. He kinda just pops out of nowhere sometimes.”

“Hm,” Shouyou says. Then he snaps his fingers, looking at his friend. “Then the moment it happens again, you gotta tell me so I can be there, okay? That way we can both figure it out. Kinda like an ambush, except we gotta be really careful about it.”

Kageyama agrees, but he sways with uncertainty. “I’ll…try,” he says, grimacing, but it should be enough for now.

Shouyou smiles to himself, and kicks the ground to put him back on his feet. “Okay, now that’s over,” he says, and he flashes Kageyama the biggest grin he can muster, and puts on the puppy eyes that used to work so well on his mom back when he was a kid. He picks up a ball that’s rolled over to his side, holding it out for Kageyama. “Toss to me!”

Kageyama snorts and rolls his eyes, but he picks himself back up and takes the ball from Shouyou. “Fine,” he says. “But after you’re working on your serves, got it?”

“Yep!” Shouyou exclaims, feeling a smile stretch wide on his lips. His palm is already stinging with the ghost of a spike, his fingers itching to hit the ball with all the force he can muster. “Toss! Toss! Toss!”

They position themselves on the court, and Hinata readies himself for what’s to come. He throws the ball over to Kageyama, who tosses it—always with the perfect trajectory, always where it should be—and Shouyou’s running before that even happens. Then he jumps with all the force he can muster, and then hits the ball to the other side of the net. It falls with a loud thud, bouncing back high into the air with the repulsion. Shouyou whips his head to find Kageyama with a light smile on his lips, satisfied, and he feels a warmth spread in his chest, the same thing that always happens after a good spike with Kageyama.

Maybe that’s just all there is, when he gets giddy and tingly when Kageyama’s around. He’s just been waiting for so long for something like this, a true _partner,_ someone to set for him, that it just fires him up each time without fail. It’s just volleyball. Maybe not _just_ —because volleyball is _everything_ to him—but it’s the reason for it. That’s all there is.

“Once more!” Shouyou calls, and Kageyama grins, sharp and ready, and all his other thoughts fall away to focus on the ball before him.

“Ready…”

“Get ready to eat my dust, Bakageyama!”

“Set…”

“Like hell you’ll win!”

“ _Go!”_

Shouyou takes off, feet pounding on the earth as the wind whips past his face, and he lets out a bark of laughter, a grin splitting his lips. He can hear Kageyama not too far behind him, much closer than he’d like to win, but the pacing only fuels him even more, and he kicks up his speed, trying to go faster.

It’s three days before Nationals, and Shouyou figures that this is a good way to burn off excessive energy and anxiety all at once. He’s so incredibly excited to finally be able to step on one of the grandest stages in Japan—to stand where the Little Giant stood, and to finally make a name for himself. It almost feels like a fever dream, but here it is now, laid before him, and all he has to do is grab it.

It’s all going to be so cool and fun, and it’s the first step to reaching his goal. He’s going to play and play and play, and it’ll be amazing.

Shouyou yelps when Kageyama suddenly steals the lead from him, willing his legs to go faster even when his lungs begin to burn. Kageyama doesn’t even bother to hide the smug smirk on his lips, and Shouyou huffs in annoyance, narrowing his eyes in concentration. He can see his breath puff out in tiny wisps of smoke around him, and he’d be sweating terribly by now if it wasn’t for the cold. Picking up his pace, Shouyou pushes himself even farther, determined not to lose.

When he’s close enough to Kageyama, he sticks an arm out to shove him, causing the setter to stumble a bit. He laughs, bright and loud, and only looks back to watch the angry expression on his friend’s face.

“Oi! Dumbass, that’s cheating!” Kageyama yells, scowling.

Shouyou lets the wind carry his laughter behind him. “There aren’t any rules except win, Bakageyama!”

Kageyama shouts at him again, another roar of insults that bounce right off him; it’s been long enough that he already knows Kageyama doesn’t mean any of them. It’s almost like a reflex by now.

He can see Noya and Tanaka up ahead, right at the finish line, and grins to himself. After last time’s running incident (wherein he and Kageyama had ended up facing Ushiwaka in Shiratorizawa), he’s careful not to go any further in fear of Daichi’s wrath and the threat of being benched—something that works wonders in keeping both he and Kageyama in line. Willing himself to go even further, Shouyou can hear Noya from here, and there’s only a few meters left to go.

Suddenly, Kageyama appears next to him, and Shouyou begins his own series of shouting, because he’ll be damned if he doesn’t win this race. He’s already behind on their scoring; he can’t afford to lose again. Just ten meters now, then five, three, two, one…

“I win!” Shouyou exclaims loudly the moment he passes his upperclassmen, skidding to a stop, and stumbling a little at the sudden stop in momentum. He braces himself on his knees, breathing heavily, eyes looking at his rival. Kageyama’s breaths come out short and quick, a hand on his hip as he tries to catch all the air back into his lungs. He walks over to him. “Told you I’d beat you!”

“Dumbass,” Kageyama says, and Shouyou can’t help his lips from quirking into a smile. Kageyama gets less and less coherent the more tired he is, and it’s secretly something Shouyou finds hilarious. “What’s it now—ninety-eight for me?”

“And now ninety-six for me,” Shouyou tells him, clapping him on his back, and laughing when Kageyama startled at the touch. “You better watch out, Kageyama! I’m gonna catch up to you in no time.”

Kageyama scoffs, but there’s that glint in his eye—the one that catches fire in declarations of war, and Shouyou can’t help but hold his breath in awe. His eyes match the view of the sky exactly, a vibrant, calming color, and the sunset spills orange generously into the deep blue of his eyes to create a whole new color all together, blending together beautifully. It’s dangerous and formidable and lovely all at once.

“You better hurry up then,” Kageyama says, lips titled into a rare smile, and Shouyou feels those star jumps in his chest again, his pulse beating lightning quick possibly for reasons other than the high adrenaline running through his veins. He feels his cheeks warming, even in the cold air, watching the way the sky keeps a hold over Kageyama’s eyes, and wonders just how far it stretches. It makes sense, in a way, because boys like Kageyama Tobio have always been made for the heavens, and all boys like Shouyou can do is desperately and determinedly try to bridge that gap. It’s just like what he’s said before— _Hinata Shouyou, who sprouted from the concrete._

“Yeah,” he says, because it’s the only word that he still has, his throat gone dry. He doesn’t understand what he’s feeling, and there’s an ache in his chest that’s pulling his heart in one direction like a fishline. And he’s felt something like this before—every time he watches an ace go up to spike the ball, and all the blockers can’t do anything about it—but this time it’s different. He can’t really explain it, but it _is._ Where volleyball is a bright yellow string tugging him to the skies, this feeling here in his chest, it’s red and abstract and not something he can grasp to inspect for answers.

Looking at Kageyama, at the way the world seems to stand still just for him, the feeling grows even stronger. And Shouyou could probably give it a name if he thought about it, because it’s familiar, this pull, but it’s never been tied to another person before. A sport, yes, the Little Giant and all his aspirations, but never like this. Never to someone so near, so close. Never to someone so easy to reach.

It feels a lot like want. Like something out of those romance novels his classmates are always talking about, or something from his mother’s bedtime stories about two star-crossed lovers destined for tragedy. Shouyou thinks he’s seen it in pictures before.

“Is there something on my face?” Kageyama asks him, and it breaks the spell he’s in, from watching the sunbeams find home on the setter’s skin. “You’re staring.”

Shouyou feels his cheeks burn. “No, I’m not!”

Kageyama squints at him suspiciously. “Yeah, you were.”

“I wasn’t!” he argues back, and oh boy, his face is so warm. “I was looking at the sky, and you just happened to be standing there!” It’s not the best excuse he’s ever given, but it’s better than the alternative of admitting the truth and only receiving the embarrassment of a lifetime.

Kageyama looks at him in scrutiny, and Shouyou does his best to hold his ground. “You’re weird,” he says after a moment, finally deciding on what to say.

Shouyou lets out a sigh of relief. “Not as weird as you!” he chirps back.

Offended, Kageyama raises an eyebrow. “ _I’m_ weird? You’re the one always staring at nothing!”

“And _you’re_ obsessed with milk!” Shouyou says back. “You’re always drinking it!”

“At least I don’t come up with random questions to text people at three in the morning!”

“Hey!” Shouyou says, furrowing his eyebrows and crossing his arms. “Those are really important questions, you know!”

Kageyama rolls his eyes. “Last night, you asked me if snakes were sad they didn’t have arms! And remember when you _called_ me just to ask me what my favorite color was?”

“They don’t have arms, Kageyama! They can never play volleyball—”

“Dumbass, they can’t even _stand._ ”

“—and if we’re friends, then obviously it’s important that I know what your favorite color is!” Shouyou reasons, trying to make Kageyama understand. “What if you go missing and it’s the only clue I have to finding you?”

Kageyama blinks, and it’s almost as though the fight drains out of him, and his shoulders slump the slightest bit forward. Then, with a much softer, maybe even _small_ voice, he says, hesitant, “You’d look for me?”

Shouyou is taken aback with surprise. “What? Of course I’d look for you! You’re my friend!”

Kageyama’s cheeks color with a pale shade of pink. “Oh.”

“Yeah, _oh,_ ” Shouyou says, crossing his arms. Kageyama gets like this sometimes, whenever he brings up something along the lines of the bond they share. It’s like Kageyama still can’t believe they’re _friends_ ; but how could Shouyou ever possibly forget such a thing, when Kageyama himself is the reason why he got a taste of seeing what the other side looked like to begin with? “I wouldn’t let a serial killer get to you! I’d fight them with my super awesome spike!”

“Would that even work against them?” Kageyama asks, tilting his head and looking genuinely confused.

“Mhm, yeah, probably! Maybe if you toss to me, one of our quicks could injure them and we could escape!”

“Do you think—”

“What the fuck,” Tsukishima deadpans, “are you two even talking about.”

“They’re having a serious conversation, Tsukki,” Yamaguchi says, nodding furiously, one hand under his chin. But there’s a teasing lilt to his words, a mischievousness to his smile. “Very serious.”

Ah, sarcasm. Shouyou’s getting better at telling when other people are equipped with it—and Tsukishima is particularly fluent. Yamaguchi’s a lot nicer about it, though. But he’s generally nicer about most things, really, which is why he and Shouyou get along much better.

“It _is_ serious!” Shouyou says. Sighing, he decides that the whole thing is probably useless by now, and that he’ll have to give it up. At least Kageyama isn’t thinking about the whole _staring_ thing anymore. “And anyway, do you—do you really hate it?” he asks, rubbing the back of his neck as he turns to the setter. Laughing nervously, he adds, “The texts, I mean. I can stop if you want.”

“No!” Kageyama says almost immediately, and the quickness of the honest admission catches Shouyou off-guard. “I mean—” Kageyama looks at him with an expression he doesn’t understand. “No,” he repeats, much more slowly, and he’s blushing again, that same one that makes Shouyou’s stomach do weird things thinking about how pretty it is, and what it would be like to feel the warmth of his cheeks on Shouyou’s palms. “I don’t. I don’t hate them.”

“Oh,” it’s Shouyou’s turn to say. His heart is like a stone being skipped over a calm lake, tumbling over and over until he begins to finally sink. Then the wind blows swiftly, tickling his ears like it’s sharing him a secret, and Shouyou smiles, gentle. “That’s—that’s good. I like sending them.”

Kageyama nods, but he doesn’t meet Shouyou’s eyes. The rest of the team is beginning to run back to the gym now, but Shouyou feels like they’ve been suspended in time, and that this is something important, untouchable. “Just,” Kageyama says, “maybe try to send them when I’m not asleep, you idiot.”

He lets his smile turn into a full-fledged grin. “I’ll do my best!” he exclaims. “Oh, you better ready yourself, Kageyama! Natsu’s been collecting a lot of magazines with those best friend quizzes, and there are _tons_ of questions I’m already thinking of asking you!”

Kageyama’s blush only seems to deepen, and Shouyou’s heart swells enough for him to call it a success. “Whatever,” he says, trying for a flat tone, but it’s just like before—Shouyou’s already cracked the code, and he knows that _whatever_ actually means _cool,_ but he doesn’t bring it up, figuring that Kageyama deserves a little break at least.

“Hinata! Kageyama! You’re up!” Sawamura calls, his hands cupping over his mouth. “Back to the gym!”

“Ready for another race?” Shouyou asks, even if he already knows the answer. He stretches out his arms, already preparing himself for what’s to come.

Kageyama grins, sharp, and his sky-eyes turn gold with fire. “Always.”

Hinata’s hands are warm.

Tobio tries not to think of it as some grand revelation instead of just a little fact he noticed when Hinata had grabbed his arms, going on about having _hands of a god_ or something. But it sticks with him, rubbing him the wrong way and nagging the back of his mind as they continue on with the match against Kamomedai. It’s probably just nothing. It’s their second game of the day, so it’s not that hard to imagine that they’re a little more sweaty and hot than usual.

Still.

It isn’t that Tobio’s held Hinata’s hands before and knows how warm he normally is—because that _definitely_ hasn’t happened—but he _has_ been around Hinata long enough to know that he’s a little hotter than usual. Maybe he’s being paranoid, since the touch was so brief and quick to begin with, and Hinata _had_ been spiking all day, but he can’t help but wonder if something’s up. Maybe it’s nothing. Hinata seems fine, his usual bright and bouncy self, so maybe there really isn’t anything to worry about.

Tobio puts the thought aside as the whistle blows and the ball goes up again. He doesn’t have time to think about anything else other than volleyball right now.

They lose the first set, and from then on it becomes one rough rally after another. Serve, receive, set, spike, block, receive again. Tobio has always enjoyed the thrill of it, the thundering of his heart beating louder than the cheers of the crowd, the adrenaline that rushes in and out of him like blood. He keeps his eyes on everyone on the court, watching the blockers and timing their movements. It’s the setter’s job, after all, to create openings for the spikers. Tobio does his best, locks down accuracy and precision and keeps at it until his movements are as consistent as breathing.

Even with his other teammates by his side, Tobio can’t help but feel Hinata’s fiery aura—like he knows where the middle blocker is without even looking. He’s especially fired up this time around, and Tobio knows it has something to do with Hoshiumi Kourai and a battle of little giants, and Hinata is trying to prove himself. He can hear Hinata calling for each toss without any words, and Tobio finds himself giving it to him when it feels right; he watches each time Hinata jumps and _soars_ , right up into the air, slamming the ball past the blockers each time. The announcer roars with the words of _Karasuno’s first-year combo’s super quick,_ and Hinata reaches the peak with every jump.

It’s at a standstill point in the game when Hinata turns to him, a wild look in his eyes. Something’s changed now, a shiver in the air, and Tobio doesn’t do anything else but look back and listen to what he has to say.

“If someone was going to give me a nickname,” Hinata says, his eyes trained on a view ahead that only he can see. “Then I think the _Strongest Decoy_ is a good one.”

And it’s like a culmination of what Tobio’s been trying to tell him right from the start—that Hinata doesn’t need to be the ace to be the coolest, or that he doesn’t need to chase after who the Little Giant once was to feel validated about his position. That being a decoy isn’t something to be ashamed of. It never has been.

“I’ve been saying it all along,” Tobio says, and he begins to walk back to his position on the court. “The Strongest Decoy is cool. It’s best after setter.”

After Hinata receives the ball, bumping it back into the air almost short of a miracle, Tobio watches as his sunset eyes latch on right onto Tobio’s own, the intensity of his unwavering even with the stakes held higher than they’ve ever been before. _Do it,_ Hinata says. _Give it to me._

And that’s exactly what Tobio does, watching as Hinata races up to the center of the court. Vividly, Tobio is reminded of that sunlit afternoon—the first time he’d ever set to Hinata, the memory flashing before his eyes with a warm sense of familiarity. It feels like that all over again, _I’m here,_ and Tobio watches as Hinata slams the ball down, beaming as he lands back on the ground. He looks just like a flare of the sun, soaring so high that Tobio can’t help but grin back, feeling the success spread over him like a welcomed old friend.

And then Hinata Shouyou becomes Icarus.

His knees buckle, giving way as he falls to the ground, confusion written all over his face. Tanaka is the first to reach him, and Hinata tries sitting back up, his words coming out in little muddled mumbles, from stable to stumble. Tobio looks at the flush on his cheeks, and remembers the warmth of his hands. He recalls Hinata’s exhaustion from the night before, how easily he’d fallen asleep, and the ever-present pinkness on his cheeks.

In that instant, he understands.

“He probably has a fever,” Tobio says, looking directly at Hinata. “I didn’t think so much of it since he had been running around so much, but before, his hands were abnormally hot.”

“What are you talking about?” Hinata says loudly, already halfway enraged. The stone inside him hasn’t dropped yet, still sinking down and lower. “They were normal!”

Takeda doesn’t waste another moment before placing the back of his palm against Hinata’s forehead. His eyes widen in realization and worry, and he doesn’t need to say anything for Tobio to know he’s right.

“He’s been off since last night,” Tobio continues, and even if he doesn’t know what’s going to happen now, with Hinata getting taken off the court, it’s what needs to be done. “The first night he couldn’t even get out of the bath, but he was so high-strung all of yesterday. Normally after a match he would jump at eating, but he didn’t eat or rest until after the last match.”

Vaguely, Tobio wonders what this means about him, to have noticed so much about Hinata. But it makes sense, doesn’t it? Of course he’s going to notice these things. Hinata is his spiker. His _friend._

“It’s like he’s had his switch always on,” he says, and Hinata’s lips wobble in denial. “So it wouldn’t be strange for him to run out of energy.”

There’s silence for a brief moment, everyone coming into terms for what it means now, maybe even wondering why they didn’t notice it earlier. Tobio wishes he’d pieced it all together sooner, maybe even from that first night. He should’ve said something.

“But it’s not like it hurts anywhere!” Hinata blurts out, coming to stand on his feet. Coach Ukai is quick to hold onto him, grabbing his arms. “I can still move! I can jump!”

Hinata’s eyes are wild and desperate. “I’m not injured!” he exclaims, but his voice is all wrong, hoarse and rough around the edges, each one like a sharp punch to the gut. He’s still trying to hold on. The stone keeps sinking. “I’m not injured!”

Tobio looks away as Takeda takes hold of Hinata’s hands, a gentle speech rolling right out of his tongue, coaxing tears of anguish and frustration out of Hinata’s eyes. _You said you were going to win the gold medal some day,_ he says. _And not just one._

“I’m sorry,” Hinata says, sniffing, head held low, eyes squeezed shut and hands clenched so tightly his knuckles are turning weight. It’s causing Tobio’s chest to ache in all the wrong ways. Yamaguchi helps Hinata up, allowing him to wrap an arm around his shoulders.

The stone hits rock bottom.

Tanaka tries to lighten up the mood with a joke, and even Tsukishima follows suit with a quick, harmless jab, and the rest of the second-years work fast to reassure Hinata that everything will be fine. Sawamura tells Hinata that they need him, and it’ll be hard without him, as honest as he always is, with the steadying and grounding words of a captain, but instructs him to rest up and eat well. Sugawara and Azumane remind him of the ginger fried pork waiting for him, and tell him to keep warm.

Heart thundering, Tobio steps forward. Now, more than ever, he needs the right words, the ones that will help push Hinata forward, to remind him that this is not the end just yet. Like what Takeda said—

This is also volleyball.

“I’ll be the one to stand on the court longest,” Tobio says, to remind him of their promise. The first one they ever made, with those pink skies beyond them, and it feels like then all over again, but stronger than before. Mightier and heavier, with much more importance. “I win this time too.”

Hinata wipes at his face, and the look he gives Tobio will stick with him for the rest of the years to come—the unyielding determination, the conviction that he, too, remembers what they said that day. That he understands that it isn’t over just yet. Not until they reach the top. There will still be a next time.

“Hinata Shouyou!” Hoshiumi yells from the other side of the court. “I’ll be waiting for you!”

And Hinata says nothing, just bows forward, and in that silence a million words are said—because this is just another chapter in the story, and he isn’t done rewriting everything, not yet. He will return, and he will play volleyball, and he will win. He’ll be back.

He’ll make sure of it.

Tobio watches as Yachi escorts Hinata out of the gym, and his chest feels heavy with what’s just transpired. He thinks of Hinata’s sunset eyes, and how’d they looked when they all realized it—his fire had blazed bright just to flicker and drown out, shadows cast around the spaces on his skin. The door shuts behind them, forcibly shutting down the sun.

But the game continues on.

Today, you are the defeated.

Which will you be tomorrow?

In the darkness of a still room, the door opens quietly. A sliver of light flows into the room, but the sleeping body remains undisturbed, eyes still closed.

Another shuffles in, sits by the bed without saying a word. Silently, he places a glass of milk by the bedside table, and hopes that it will still be warm by the time the other wakes. For a moment, he lets himself listen to the steady breathing, and thinks of the past.

_As long as I’m here, you’re invincible._

A promise. An exchange.

After a few moments, he gets up, and leaves, careful not to make any other sound. The sleeping boy stirrs, sits up and finds the milk on the table, already understanding who’s come by. He takes it, feels the warmth in his hands, and sips at it before going back to sleep.

A little memory, a slip of time only for them to keep.

They’re eighteen meters apart, maybe.

Eighteen, if you took a ruler and measured it, counted the steps that stand in between them. It’s a wide gap, from one end of the gym to the other, where one’s sitting and the other’s standing. They don’t make eye contact, looking away from one another like a glance would be poison, and it’s a lot heavier than it should be, and none of them speak a word to bridge the space between them.

Perhaps there are just moments when words aren’t enough, and something else must take its place.

But first: Shouyou is standing, trying serve after serve, even after he keeps failing and botching up each one. Frustration grows like a wild beast that’s getting more difficult to control with each passing moment, and as the minutes trickle by, the worst outcome is that it will win anyway. But he is made of harder, sturdier things, and he’s weathered his fair share of tragedy, and he can still remember with detailed clairity what it had felt like to get pulled out of a game, just when things had been going so well. It builds up and up and up inside of him, until his chest feels heavy and the anger seeps out of him to heat his skin like burning fire, and he just _knows_ that he has to do better, that he will can’t just sit by, and that he needs to do _something_ to deserve that second chance.

He won’t let it happen again. He’ll keep playing games and he’ll win them all and he’ll reach the top and prove just to everyone how high he can go without falling. He imagines scars on his back just to testify that he’d nearly done it once, that he had climbed and nearly reached the heavens just to fall short of it. And he’ll be able to say that he already knows what it’s like to fall from the sky, and repeat that he’ll try again, again and again and again, until he’s made concrete of the clouds and knows his place in the sky. He’ll do it a million times over if that’s what it takes, because a fever is not an excuse but a lesson, and he knows better now. He knows when to be reckless, to reach for things even with the slim chance of happening, to try just for the hell of it and to see if they’ll be able to block it; but he’s also just learned to be careful, to care for himself as he would care for the sport, because there is no game if there are no players, and there’s only so far he can go before his body gives up on him, even if his mind can go even further.

So he’s trying. He’s _trying,_ and he’s going to win, and he’s going to make it to the top. Because Hinata Shouyou does not go back on promises, and he has to be there if he wants to learn invincibility. He’s started from the ground so many times that the starting line has grown familiar like a second home, but to be able to fly he needs to learn how to fall—and fall he has. He’ll do better this time. He’ll get it right. He won’t let anyone down. He’ll prove it—to the world, and to himself.

He’ll show them all.

Then, eighteen meters over: Tobio is sitting by the wall, unsure of what he’s doing or where he’s supposed to go. All he knows is that his competitive spirit burns brighter than any sun, that it is on the same level as the boy whose palms are bleeding red and stinging with force of his continuous serves. That this competitive spirit of theirs is what got them here in the first place, and that he’d feared that the past few events would only cause the other’s to burn out—except he’s never been happier to be wrong, because it seems to only twist and turn into an inferno now, blazing brighter than before, and he doesn’t know how quite to approach it.

 _I win this time too,_ and it had been true, and it had been real. It had been part of their promise, of their tallied scores that rest on a sheet of paper on the club room (but it’s really only for formalities, when he thinks about it, because their little numbers are engraved on his chest like a tattoo under his skin; while he’s not all that academically bright, Tobio is better at remembering all the important things, and this is damn near the top of the list). He knows why he said those words, and so does Hinata, but there is something else that’s there. He doesn’t call it a setback, not quite, because it isn’t, and Hinata is a storm that seems to be running on frustration alone, and Tobio knows firsthand that doing so will only result poorly.

He knows he should go over there. He should tell Hinata to stop, because it isn’t even practice hours, and no one else is in the gym except them. He’d come in just to think for a bit, to rest after class when Hinata hadn’t called him for lunch like he usually does, and it had not been less than ten minutes that Hinata himself had walked in. He’d glanced at Tobio, and his expression shifted—into something Tobio had only seen a handful of times before. It was a mix of determination and frustration, his eyes as dark as the setting sun on winter evenings, and Tobio hadn’t managed to get a single word out before Hinata picked up the ball and started serving.

He hasn’t looked at Tobio since.

And Tobio has seen this before. He’d seen it in Oikawa back years ago, and he’d seen it in himself after his team had left him in middle school. He knows what it’s like to have that frustration fester into something feral and deep, to nearly have it control you and overwhelm all of your other senses. It had felt like drowning, and he didn’t know which way was home, to safety and to land, and all the lighthouses seemed to evade him even when he was cast in an eternal night.

(And then, he thinks to himself, he’d met Hinata. He’d been following that light ever since.)

So he really should go over there and say something, but he’s been trying to come up with the right words to say for the last twenty minutes, and they’ve never been his strongest suit. He doesn’t even know if he’ll get through to Hinata—if he promises Hinata invincibility, will he even listen? Will the words be enough?

Shaking his head, Tobio decides that words aren’t what’s going to patch this all up. Words have never been the language that he and Hinata communicate best in. Even with that strange telepathy they seem to have going on sometimes, Tobio knows that it isn’t through any Japanese word that will get Hinata to listen to him.

There’s only one language they’ve both been proficient in from the start.

Tobio stands up, and crosses that divide—meter by meter, until it shrinks between his feet. Hinata doesn’t have seemed to have noticed him yet; he’s picking up another ball to serve. Tobio plants his feet on the ground, but doesn’t station himself immovable, keeping his toes light. He stands on the other side of the net, and waits.

And as Hinata runs up to serve the ball, Tobio meets him there.

With his receive, the ball falls to the spot where the setter would’ve been standing, and he watches as it bounces once, twice, before rolling away. Silence captures the gym once more, and Tobio swears that in the stillness, the air had turned palpable enough for him to grab it.

Tobio looks over to Hinata and finds that same expression, but there’s something else now—a flash of understanding. Hinata understands what he’s trying to say. Of course he does.

It’s volleyball, after all.

Tobio nods, and Hinata blinks, then his shoulders sag just slightly, the look on his face flickering into something a bit more mellow, like the time is moving backwards and the sun begins to rise up again in his eyes. _I’m here,_ he tells Hinata, when he picks up another ball, aims it at him to receive. _You’re not alone_. Hinata bumps it back over to him, and he tosses it back—and they pass it again to each other, over and over, a cycle that flows between them. This is how they speak, it’s how their river runs.

And eventually, Tobio goes to cross whatever meters left between them, ready to tell Hinata that it’s enough for the day. This isn’t the end, not for the both of them, and definitely not for Karasuno. Even if the third-years graduate and team changes, they’ll still be here, partners, and they’ll do everything they can to make it to the top.

He opens his mouth to say it, Hinata shakes his head with a gentle smile, and it tells Tobio that he already knows.

His smile is a little less bright than usual but genuine all the same, and Tobio sees the gratitude in his eyes. The light comes back slowly, carefully, and it’s not as it once was, but it’s enough for now. Muted, but sharper. Knowing. Tobio nods in understanding, and they pick up the balls, one by one, before packing it away. And when they leave the gym, it is with lighter hearts and lungs, and the wind comes in to sweep the rest of their guilt away.

They still have so much more to go.

> From: Hinata
> 
> _what are your thoughts on pandas?_
> 
> To: Hinata
> 
> _Please go to sleep_
> 
> To: Hinata
> 
> _They’re big and look very soft_

“I will now be handing out your tests,” Shouyou’s English teacher says, and the stack of papers in her hands stares right back at him ominously. “Please go over your scores. You may leave once you’ve received your paper.”

Shouyou’s foot taps relentlessly against the hardwood, fingers hooked around his table as he waits for the teacher to call out his name. Pulse quickening underneath his skin, he’s really hoping for a good score. He doesn’t want to disappoint Yachi again, and he’ll prove Tsukishima—that smug bastard—wrong this time around. Plus, he’s got a bet riding on getting high marks, and he’s not going to lose.

“Hinata-kun,” the teacher calls out, and Shouyou shoots straight to the front of the classroom, taking the sheet of paper from his hands. His eyes zero in on the red marking on the top right corner of his exam, and feels his heart thud in anticipation.

Without another moment to waste, he bolts out of the classroom, zooming past the people surrounding the doorway. There are a few yelps while he shouts back apologies, not looking back. But he doesn’t need to make it too far to reach where he has to go, because it’s decided to meet him halfway.

Kageyama narrows his eyes, his own test held in his hand. “What did you get?” he asks. A part of Shouyou thinks it’s funny that they’re having a semi-showdown in the middle of a hallway, but nothing can quite beat their first meeting in terms of places to be when facing a rival.

Shouyou grins, triumphant. He holds out his paper to show Kageyama. “Eighty-nine.” He’s been getting a lot better at English lately, all thanks to Yachi and her wonderful tutoring sessions.

Then Kageyama’s face falls, and Shouyou knows he’s won. Huffing, Kageyama crosses his arms, and sighs resignedly, eyebrows pinched together. “Fine. You win this time.”

“What’d you get, huh? What’d you get, Kageyama?” Shouyou teases, stepping closer to circle around Kageyama. “Show me, show me!”

Kageyama scowls, a light flush coming to rest on his cheeks. “Eighty-two, alright? Messed up on the last part.”

“Aww, it’s okay, Kageyama-kun, not everybody can be as good as me,” Shouyou says, patting Kageyama’s arm in an attempt to fake-comfort him, trying to hold back his laughter. Grades are fair-game when it comes to making fun of each other for it, mostly because neither of them are too insecure about it. “Maybe I can tutor you next time!”

“No thanks,” Kageyama says without missing a beat. “Yachi’s a way better teacher than you are.”

“You wound me,” he says dramatically, placing a hand on his head for even more effect. Laughing, he faces Kageyama again properly, and bounces on his toes. “But anyway! I won! You know what it means, right?”

Kageyama rolls his eyes. “Tsk. Can I say no?”

“Nope!” he says cheerfully, rocking back and forth on his feet. “It means,” he continues on, grinning widely, “that you have to come over to my house this weekend!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Kageyama says, waving him off with a hand. The other alternative was that they went over to Kageyama’s place, which Shouyou was excited about too, but he’d thought it would be pretty nice to have Kageyama over. They’re going to play some video games—this whole thing began because Kageyama admitted to never playing a single one, and Shouyou decided to take matters into his own hands—and eat some of the junk food he’s been saving up for special occasions. Maybe they can even play some volleyball after, of course, because it’s what ties them together before anything else. “I’ll come over.”

“I’ll give you directions so you don’t get lost,” Shouyou tells him, and oh, he’s already so excited! “It can be pretty far, so you should bring a bike.”

Kageyama hums in agreement. “Okay,” he says. “Can we go eat lunch now? I’m hungry.”

“Oh, right!” Shouyou says, grinning. “I’ll go get my lunch, and I’ll meet you there. Tree or rooftop?”

“Rooftop. The grass is full of snow,” Kageyama answers, nodding once, before turning around into the direction of his classroom.

Shouyou hurriedly goes back into his own, crosses and curves around the desks until he reaches his, with his other papers and pens strewn messily over it. He stacks them into a neat pile, tucks his pens into the corner, and grabs his bento box from under his table. His mom had wrapped it in a yellow sheet with little orange suns decorating them; it’s one of Shouyou’s favorites.

When he steps out of the classroom, Kageyama is already there waiting for him, leaning against the wall, his own lunch clutched in his hand.

“Someone’s excited,” Shouyou teases, looking at the frown on Kageyama’s face.

“I’m hungry,” Kageyama grumbles, and Shouyou laughs. They turn the corner to start climbing up the stairs, and Shouyou skips every other step, beating Kageyama to the top.

Pushing the door open, the cold air is there to greet him, numbing his nose slightly. He walks over to the side to find a dry spot, and sits down comfortably. There’s no one else here today, he notes, probably because winter is beginning to come in full force. Shouyou’s always been pretty good at keeping warm, though.

Kageyama sits down next to him, placing a milk carton down next to his lunch as he brings out his chopsticks. The wind blows against his hair softly, a chilly breeze, but the setter doesn’t really seem to be affected.

Pointing to Kageyama’s tomatoes, Shouyou says, “I can take those again, if you want.”

“Please,” Kageyama says, handing his off. It’s too bad Shouyou doesn’t have any carrots to trade him for, but it’s all okay, as long as they both eat well. “I’ve got some stuff to do in the morning, but I’ll probably be at your house by noon. Is that okay?”

“Yup!” Shouyou says, shoveling bites into his mouth. “Oh, I’m gonna _kick your ass_ at Mario Kart, Kageyama. You’ll never see me coming.”

“It’d be more convincing without all the food in your mouth,” Kageyama says dryly, but there’s a light smile on his lips. He scoffs. “As if I’m ever gonna let you beat me at anything.”

“My house, my rules!” Shouyou sing-songs, laughing as he dodged another one of Kageyama’s swipes at him. It’s basically a reflex by now. “Oh, you’ll also get to meet my sister!”

Kageyama’s eyes widen. In that instant, his expression changes from competitive to almost _nervous_ —maybe even scared. “Your sister’s gonna be there?” he asks hesitantly.

“Yeah, duh,” Shouyou says, waving his chopsticks. “I’ll try to ask her not to bother us too much, but she can get kinda noisy sometimes.”

“I’m not—I’m not that good with kids,” Kageyama admits softly. Shouyou knows that the same thing is true for the setter and small animals, and that Kageyama wishes it weren’t, so he knows it’s one of the topics he isn’t really allowed to make fun of. “They find my face scary.”

“Natsu won’t be afraid of you, dummy,” Shouyou reassures him. “She’s my sister, remember? Hinatas aren’t scared of anything!”

Kageyama gives him a disbelieving look, but Shouyou doesn’t waver. “You were scared of me when we first met.”

Shouyou makes an offended sound. “That’s—that’s ‘cause I was really nervous! It was my first game!” he argues. “And besides, I’m not scared of you anymore, right? I got used to your face and that smile you do. It’s even getting better these days, you know! Like when you aren’t trying that hard.”

Kageyama flushes pink again, and he nods hesitantly. “Okay,” he says after a while. “But if she runs away, you’re not allowed to blame me, got it?”

“Definitely!” Shouyou says, grinning. “You’ll see, Kageyama. It’ll be fine.”

It is not fine.

Tobio thinks that Hinata is probably the biggest liar he’s ever met. Maybe he doesn’t know what _fine_ means, or that you’re not supposed to lie to your friends to begin with, because this clearly isn’t fine. It’s the farthest thing from it, actually.

It’s not fine, because there’s a little girl standing in front of him when he had been expecting to see Hinata, not a smaller version of him, with little pigtails puffing out of her head and the same warm brown eyes. He had rung the doorbell hoping it would go smoothly, but it’s already starting off quite terrible.

He really should’ve tried harder on that test.

“Who are you?” she asks him, eyes narrowing in suspicion, her hands on her hips. It’s more threatening than Tobio thinks it should be.

“Uh, I—I’m Kageyama Tobio. Is Hinata—uh, Shouyou?—is Shouyou here?” Tobio manages to say, desperately looking around for a sign of another head full of orange hair. “He, um. He said I could come over.”

She squints up at him, before gasping, her eyes widening. “Are you _the_ Tobio? Like the one nii-chan’s always talking about? That Tobio?”

Tobio flushes with the implication of her words. “Um…yes? I think so,” he says, and he figures that he should try his luck with a smile—it’s already going so terribly, what’s one more? He smiles, and he figures he must be doing it wrong, because Hinata’s sister takes a step back, but then her face changes into a bright grin, and that only makes Tobio even more confused. Maybe it’s a Hinata thing, to be able to smile like that.

“Yeah, it’s you for sure!” she says, her smile all toothy and sideways. “Nii-chan said that you look a bit funny when you try too hard to smile, but that’s just how your face is. Oh! Since you’re here, you could—”

“Kageyama! You’re here!” Hinata says, finally appearing by the doorway. His eyes light up at the sight of Tobio. “I didn’t think you’d come so early!”

“I told you noon, didn’t I?” Tobio says, feeling the relief wash over him. He’s gonna tell Hinata off later for leaving him to deal with his sister, but for now he’s just glad he’s here. He glances over at the little girl again, who’s gone back to staring up at him with wide eyes.

“This is my sister, Natsu,” Hinata says, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Natsu, this is Kageyama. He’s a setter on our team.”

“Nii-chan likes talking about you a lot,” Natsu says, as though completing her thought from earlier. “He says you give the _bestest_ tosses! And that you’re his partner, and that—”

“Yeah, that’s enough,” Hinata says quickly, red on his cheekbones, clamping a hand over Natsu’s mouth. Kageyama smirks. “Okay, we can go ahead up to my room now. Natsu, you’ve got homework to do, right?”

“But I wanna play with Tobio-chan too!” Natsu whines. “I was gonna ask him if he wanted to have a make-over!”

Hinata stifles a laugh behind his mouth as he looks up at Kageyama. “Yeah, he’d like that, wouldn’t he?”

“I never said—”

“Maybe later you can try putting some of your hair clips on him,” Hinata says, that mischievous glint in his eye only sharpening when Natsu cheers in delight.

“I have so many new stickers I wanna try! Is it really okay, Tobio-chan?” Natsu asks, directing her attention to him. “Really?”

Tobio shoots a pointed glare at Hinata before turning back to the little girl before him. He shifts his weight to his other foot awkwardly. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, sure. Later.”

“Yay!” she exclaims, beaming. She bounces on her toes, and the action is so familiar that Tobio can’t help but smile a little. And just like that, she runs off, and Tobio feels the tension loosen from his shoulders.

With Natsu gone, Tobio rounds on Hinata, narrowing his eyes, jabbing a finger to his chest, and says, “Dumbass, you said it would be fine!”

“Wasn’t it?” Hinata says, and he has the audacity to act all innocent—tilting his head in confusion, and raising an eyebrow. But Tobio knows the truth: Hinata probably meant for this to happen, that little gremlin bastard. “I thought it went pretty well.”

“She was glaring at me!”

“But she didn’t seem scared of you, did she?” Hinata points out. “She even wants to play with you! I call that a success, _Tobio-chan._ ”

“Shut up,” Tobio says, and his chest feels warm all over again, but this time a bit stronger. He can’t pin it down, but it’s different when Hinata says his name.

(A little like it’s always meant to be there.)

Hinata claps his hands. “Okay! Come on, we can head upstairs, I already got the game set up and everything.”

Towing his shoes off and carefully setting them aside, Tobio follows Hinata as they round the hallway to find the living room. It’s very well-lived in, and he can easily imagine it as a place where someone like Hinata grew up, as bouncy and excitable as he is. Crayons are littered over the table, little origami pieces, and books stacked messily into a corner. The pillows are mismatched on the couch, only a kotatsu at the center, and there are several picture frames hanging on the walls. Tobio moves closer to get a good look at them, and finds Hinata in a lot of them. There are photos of him when he was a little kid, gap-toothed and lopsided smiles, climbing trees and playing games. There’s one where he’s carrying Natsu, matching twin grins and fiery red hair.

“You were so small,” Tobio comments, stopping on a photo of Hinata from his childhood, a summer afternoon on the beach. He’s holding a plastic red bucket in one hand, and a shovel in the other, stance wide as he stands tall and determined. He’s ankle-deep in the water, a swipe of sun lotion white across the bridge of his nose, all his freckles popping out and mapping out constellations on his cheeks.

“I think I was nine there,” Hinata tells him, a wistful smile gracing his lips as he imagines the memory. “I made the best sandcastles, you know!”

Tobio hums, and he lets his eyes linger on the photos for a little longer, thinking to himself that maybe Hinata’s eyes have always looked like that—with a little bit of the sunset in them. Then, finally having enough, he turns to Hinata. “You were okay-looking as a kid, I guess. Not ugly, at least.”

Hinata seems to brighten up almost instantly, not one to ever miss an opportunity of teasing. “Kageyama! You think I was cute?”

“I never said that,” he says, rolling his eyes. But his attempt is futile; Hinata’s grin is blown wide, and Tobio can feel the heat creeping up on his cheeks. He’s been really slipping up lately—saying things that end up as halfway vague compliments when he used to say nothing at all. Maybe it’s a side effect of Hinata-overexposure, who’s always giving out compliments like it’s as easy as breathing. “Let’s just go play already.”

Hinata laughs, but leads Tobio up the stairs, turning to the left when they make it to the top. There are three different closed doors, and another that’s swung open to reveal a bathroom. Hinata’s is the last that they pass by, at the very corner of the house.

“Ta-da! This is my room!” Hinata says as he twists the doorknob, pushing the door open. At first glance, Tobio already knows that the best word to describe is _bright,_ and the second is _messy._ Clothes are piled by the corner, sheets of paper strewn over the desk and bed, and three volleyballs are tucked into a corner, ready to be used at any given moment. The bed is haphazardly made, an old stuffed toy of a crow resting in the corner. There are pictures on the wall here, too, with faces Tobio doesn’t recognize, and some he does.

There’s one of boys in a green uniform, Hinata standing proudly at the center, the number _1_ emblazoned right on top of his chest. Tobio recognizes it—the team he’d gone against back at middle school. Hinata’s first team. There’s a couple more with Natsu in them, and some of Karasuno, too. Tobio’s surprised to find himself in more of them than he’d expected—one of him, Hinata, and the other first-years in the sun, three photos of the whole team (there’s one from Nationals), and another of just the two of them. It’s from their training camp in Tokyo; Tobio had been pulled to Hinata’s side for a photo on Hinata’s phone, and he’d done his best to smile while Hinata held up a peace sign and a wide grin. It doesn’t look too bad, really. Secretly, he feels a little touched that Hinata had liked it enough to put it up on his wall.

“I’ll just get it started,” Hinata says, flopping down onto a green bean bag on the floor. Tobio takes the blue one next to him, folding his legs together. Hinata hands him a controller, which Tobio looks at confusingly.

The screen lights up, and Tobio watches as Hinata presses a couple of controls. He helps Tobio pick out a character—he picks out Peach, because she looks like a winner, and Hinata closes his eyes and randomly mashes the buttons to land on a random character and explains he usually chooses depending on who he thinks is funniest-looking that day.

Hoping that button mashing will be enough, Tobio holds the control steady in his hands. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Hinata stick his tongue out, eyes focused with determination. It’s almost like a reflex by now—if Hinata is fired up, then so is he, and his heart begins to beat quickly in the idea of competition.

“I’m going to win,” Tobio states, mostly just to say it. He doesn’t have much experience in playing video games, but he does have experience in beating Hinata at things, so that should be enough, right?

He’s not completely wrong. In the end, he loses to Hinata in the first round, but gets a hang of it by the second. Hinata swore it was just beginner’s luck, but Tobio was determined to prove him wrong, which is how they ended up playing even more, with a final score of 13-12 in Hinata’s favor. Tobio thinks it’s unfair because the tiebreaker had been some freakishly hard and long rainbow-colored road that was nearly impossible to navigate, and Hinata kept throwing objects at him. Hinata kept yelling at him to stop cursing, too, because Natsu was home and the walls weren’t too thick. He tried to negotiate for another rematch, but then Natsu had thrown the door open and told them that they’d been playing for hours already, and that it was her turn to play now.

Which is how he finds himself now, sitting in the middle of Hinata’s bedroom floor, two pink star stickers on his left cheek and three clips in his hair.

“Do you want these heart stickers too?” Natsu asks him, sitting criss-cross in front of him, eyebrows furrowing at the sticker sheet in her hand. Her tongue sticks out in contemplation.

“Okay,” Tobio answers, and out of the corner of his eye he can see Hinata trying to stifle his smile with the back of his hand. He flushes pink, growing more and more embarrassed. “Shut up, idiot. I can hear you laughing.”

“No, I’m not!” Hinata says, but he’s grinning anyway, not trying to hide his amusement at all. At least Tobio isn’t the only one who looks completely ridiculous—Hinata’s got five colorful clips scattered around in his hair, a heart on the tip of his nose, diamonds on his cheeks, and stars all over his arms.

“I need to tie up your hair,” Natsu tells him just as she finishes placing heart stickers on his right cheek and forehead, picking out a bright blue ponytail. She curls her fist around Tobio’s middle part, tying it up to keep it out of his eyes. “There,” she says, patting his head. She beams. “Done!”

Hinata laughs as Natsu moves out of the way, sitting back to admire her handiwork. “Awww, Kageyama almost looks cute!” he teases, and Tobio tries to swipe at him, only for Hinata to dodge it perfectly. “Good job, Natsu!”

“He _is_ cute!” Natsu exclaims with a bright smile. “Tobio-chan, please go sit next to nii-chan, I want to take a picture!”

“Oh, no,” Tobio says, horrified, as Hinata cackles, and he doesn’t waste another moment before bringing himself to Tobio’s side, bumping into his arm and squishing their sides together. “No, no, no, no.”

“Natsu, use my phone!” Hinata says, clearly enjoying every second of it as he tosses his phone over to his little sister. He’s like a little gremlin. Tobio doesn’t know why he even bothers.

“Smile!” Natsu says, holding up the phone. As the flash goes off, Hinata loops his arm around Tobio’s, catching the setter off guard, a heavy flush to his cheeks with all the embarrassment that the whole ordeal brought.

Hinata takes the phone from Natsu to look at the photo, laughing loudly once more at the result. “Oh my god, I love it, I’m going to make it my wallpaper.”

“What—”

“Nii-chan, I want a picture with Tobio-chan too!” Natsu says, and it’s her turn to sit next to him, bright eyes looking right up at him with a large grin.

“I hate this,” Kageyama mutters.

“No, you don’t,” Hinata says, snickering. “Okay, okay! Three, two, one! Smile!”

Ten more pictures later—three of which are of the siblings, four more of Tobio, and Hinata, another of him and Natsu, and two of all three of them—Tobio checks the time to see that he should probably get going soon. The sun’s already begun to set through the windows, bleeding pink and orange into the skyline. Daylight is a lot shorter now in the winter.

“But you just got here!” Hinata whines. His lips turn downward into a frown, but it’s not very convincing with all the stickers plastered onto his face.

“I’ve been here for six hours,” Tobio deadpans as he picks himself back up from the floor.

“You could stay for dinner?” he asks, voice a little hopeful.

Tobio feels warmth settle on his cheeks again. Having to meet Natsu was already so overwhelming, he’s not sure if he could deal with introducing himself to Hinata’s parents too. “I can’t,” he says, wincing slightly.

Hinata’s face falls. “Oh.”

“But,” Tobio says, and he genuinely hates it, he hates how something in his chest stings at the thought of letting _Hinata Shouyou_ down for reasons that aren’t even volleyball-related. This is dumb and stupid, and he doesn’t even owe Hinata this, but for some inexplicable reason he’s promising it anyway. “Maybe—maybe next time.”

Hinata’s face lights up immediately, stepping closer to Tobio. This close, he can see all of Hinata’s freckles, maybe even count them. “Really? You mean it? You’ll come over again?”

He takes a step back instinctively, holding his hands up in defense, his cheeks growing hotter by the second. Stupid Hinata, always making Tobio feel so _weird_ all the time. “I mean—dumbass—that’s not—”

“Next week, then! You can come over next week!” Hinata says eagerly, bouncing, and his eyes are doing that sparkle thing again, and Tobio doesn’t understand it at all. He’s never really had anyone ask him to come over before, much less _twice._

“That’s—don’t you think that’s too soon?” Tobio says, and he’s trying to be gentle, to not make it seem like he doesn’t want to go (because he thinks he does, even if he’ll get his ass kicked in video games and Natsu will be there again to put stickers on his face).

“Why not?” Hinata says, tilting his head in confusion. And Tobio doesn’t get how he doesn’t understand that things like these aren’t Tobio’s forte. “We can do our homework together this time. And Natsu seems to really like you. I doubt she’ll shut up about you now, so you should definitely come over.”

“She does?” Tobio hadn’t thought he made a good impression.

“Yeah!” Hinata answers. He pushes the door to his bedroom open, leading them into the hallway. “You were really nice about the whole make-over thing. It was really funny, obviously, but you didn’t need to let her do all that stuff if you didn’t want her to.”

Tobio shrugs. “I’m used to it,” he says. Then, without much thinking, he adds, “My sister’s a hair stylist. She liked to practice on me when we were younger.”

Hinata’s head whips around so fast that Tobio barely even has time to react before he’s yelling, “ _You have a sister?”_

“Yeah,” he says, wincing a little at the volume, nose scrunching up.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Hinata demands, throwing his hands up in the air.

Tobio stands at a loss for words, because in truth, he’s not sure why he did in the first place. It’s not like Miwa is a secret or anything, it’s just not really something that comes up in conversations a lot, in his opinion. And as for his grandfather…well, Tobio doesn’t really like talking about it.

He shrugs, and decides to just say, “I didn’t think it was that important?”

“It’s important!” Hinata says just as they reach the bottom of the staircase. “Is she older than you? By how much? Do you have any more siblings? Are you the youngest? What’s she like? Can I meet her—”

“One at a time,” Tobio interrupts, already feeling a little dizzy. He swallows, pushing down the weird feeling in his stomach. He doesn’t get why Hinata wants to know so much, or why he’s going to answer his questions anyway. “Uh, her name—it’s Miwa. She’s eight years older than me, and it’s just me and her. She’s okay, I guess. It’s been a while since I last saw her, but she comes home to visit sometimes. So, um, no, you can’t meet her. And what the hell, why would you even want to?”

Hinata gives him a look, like the answer should be obvious. “Of course I want to meet her! You’re my friend, and she sounds so cool!”

Tobio feels another blush creep onto his cheeks. “Dumbass.”

Hinata ignores him, choosing instead to continue rambling on about how cool it would be to have an older sibling. In just a few moments, they reach the front door, and Tobio slips his shoes back on.

“So like I was saying,” Hinata says as he pulls the door open. The sun’s mostly set now, and the winter air makes its way towards them in a swift breeze. “You can come over again next week, but only if you want to.”

Tobio nods, taking his blue scarf from the rack and wrapping it around his neck. “Okay,” he says, because he needs to pretend to have at least a little bit of self-preservation left, even if he knows that the answer is definitely yes.

Hinata grins, like he already knows. His eyes flash with something brilliant, and in it Tobio can already see the image of a boy taking flight. “I’ll see you at practice, Kageyama! You better toss to me!”

Tobio rolls his eyes, but there’s a trace of a smile to his lips despite it all. “Then you better receive well first,” he tells Hinata. Stepping outside, he turns to Hinata one more time. “See you tomorrow.”

“Yeah!” Hinata says, and then the door closes, leaving Tobio to stand outside of the house.

Facing the evening sun, Tobio heads home with a warm, light feeling in his chest even in the cold. He’s not sure if it has something to do with Hinata, or the pork curry with egg he’s planning on making for dinner, but either way, he doesn’t mind it in the slightest. He kind of likes it, even.

Maybe if he’s lucky, it’ll stay there with him, close to his heart, and never leave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im still writing the last few parts so the next chapter will probably be up in a few days! you can also find me on [tumblr!](https://superish.tumblr.com)
> 
> thank you for reading! <3


	2. mirrorball

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you can find the playlist [here!!](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0tPRilBHwRfwIygCi2mTI5?si=eyKU_gQkSHqAii0unM0k_w)

This is an old tale, but we tell it anyway.

Kageyama Tobio is not one for the winter.

Shouyou thinks this is hilarious, since Kageyama’s birthday falls right at the center of the season, and he’d originally thought that it would grant the setter an immunity to the cold or something. It turns out things don’t work that way, much to his own amusement, and he stifles his giggles as he sneaks another glance at his volleyball partner.

Standing in front of Sakanoshita Store, Kageyama rubs his gloveless hands together in an attempt to steal back some warmth, his breath puffing out in little clouds of air that look a little like pale smoke. Around his neck is the blue scarf Shouyou had gifted him last year for his birthday (an addition to the volleyball he had also given), his chin tucked into it to shield him from the frost that blooms red on his cheeks. Eyebrows furrowed in concentration, just a little crease at the center of his forehead, and nose as pink as cotton candy, Kageyama looks a little helpless in the flurry of snow, and Shouyou can’t help but smile, and think— _cute._

Shouyou freezes. He stops right in his tracks, standing just around the corner by the vending machines, eyes widening at his own thought. Cute? He’d thought Kageyama was _cute_? And if that doesn’t already feel wrong on a thousand levels, what makes it worse is that this isn’t the first time either, because Shouyou’s heart has already taken a recent liking to beating rapidly in his chest whenever Kageyama is around, stuttering and thumping all too wildly to be casual. It’s not like before, not fear, like it used to be—this is a different kind of beating.

Shouyou would hate it more if it didn’t settle so nicely in his chest, or make him feel so giddy and happy every time it happened. They sidle right next to his heart, comfy and soft around the edges, like tiny golden butterflies taking flight, and it would be far too messy to try to get them out from where they’re entangled. They’re little things, these quick sets of heartbeats, little rosy things tinted with a million of warm shades, abstract and floating all around him. They reflect the color on his cheeks when Kageyama looks at him too long, or when Kageyama does something nice, like offer bits of his lunch and listening intently to whatever story Shouyou is telling like it actually matters, or even whenever Kageyama is simply within even ten meters of him and is aware of his existence. They make flowers bloom right in his chest, and it should hurt but it doesn’t, maybe not yet, and Shouyou thinks he could get high on this feeling for the rest of his life. But thinking back, maybe it’s not so simple, because it would be easier if stopped doing stupid things, like stepping close to Kageyama, taking his hands in his own, and saying—

“Here. I’ll help,” Shouyou blurts out, the words tumbling out of his mouth without warning. He sandwiches Kageyama’s hands between his gloved ones, rubbing gently to provide a little friction and heat. “You forgot your gloves,” he says, as if it isn’t obvious already.

“Yeah,” Kageyama says back. He must be freezing, Shouyou thinks, watching as the red on the setter’s face only deepens into something darker, spreading over the bridge of his nose and to the tip of his ears.

“Good thing I’m here then, huh?” Shouyou teases, a light smile on his lips, and continues to hold onto Kageyama’s hands, pressing them even closer.

Kageyama looks away, his mouth tugging downward, and for a moment Hinata panics that he’d overstepped a line somewhere. They’d been getting so well over the past few months, especially after Nationals. But sometimes he’s still unsure of where he stands with Kageyama—partners obviously, teammates and allies, and something fuzzy always grows in his chest when he thinks that they might even be _best friends._ He wonders if Kageyama thinks the same.

Kageyama clears his throat. “Yeah,” he mutters, and Shouyou feels a grin tug itself onto his face with ease. “Dumbass.”

“Hey! You can’t call me that, I’m not the one who‘s cold as hell,” Shouyou huffs, squinting up at him. He moves his hands away by a fraction just to warn Kageyama, and laughs when Kageyama chases his hands back, covering his palms with Shouyou’s, a scowl on his face. It’s not exactly skin-to-skin contact, but it’s…it’s nice. Touching Kageyama is always nice, even if it’s never enough, and it’s always brief, like high fives on the court or dodging one another’s jabs when play-fighting.

Shouyou doesn’t let himself think about what that means. It’s shaped like a secret, and he doesn’t know what to do with it.

“I won’t forget them tomorrow,” Kageyama tells him, and Shouyou hums to cover up the way his stomach drops at the sudden realization that dawns on him. That is, that something like this will never happen again. That he won’t have an excuse to hide behind and tease Kageyama and take his hands without much of a question. A one-time wonder, only for these few minutes.

“You better not,” he manages to say, and he wonders why it matters so much. Why he cares whether Kageyama is cold or not, or why he had even noticed this morning when they’d met up to race that Kageyama’s hands were bare. Why he thinks touching Kageyama is nice. “If your hands are too cold, they’ll get all numb, and you won’t be able to set anymore!”

Kageyama’s eyes widen, like he hadn’t thought of that. “Do you think they’ll chop off my hands?”

Shouyou nods. “They might, yeah. Since you won’t be able to move them. But it won’t hurt, I think? You won’t be able to feel it.”

“I won’t be able to write anymore either. Or eat properly,” Kageyama says thoughtfully. “

“Yeah,” he agrees. “Or pick things up. And hold hands.” He flushes when he realizes what he’d just said, but continues anyway, and gestures to their clasped hands. “We wouldn’t be able to do this, either.”

Kageyama makes a little embarrassed sound, squeezing their palms together a little more, and he bites his lip as though trying to soak up all the warmth. He shivers. Upon closer inspection, Shouyou finds snowflakes have made a home on Kageyama’s eyelashes, little flecks of white against deep black, and it traces shadows on pale skin under the moonlight. There’s snow in his hair, too, silver on jet black, and vaguely he wonders what it would be like, to run his hands through Kageyama’s hair. Would it be as soft as it looks? Maybe he could even take Kageyama’s hands after, and trace the lightning veins on his wrists, see if his palm lines secretly map the direction to the heavens. That would be terrible, Hinata thinks to himself, to lose such beautiful hands. Who would set to him then?

“Here,” Shouyou says, and he isn’t thinking much, really, Yachi would be disappointed, as he undoes his own scarf and takes Kageyama’s hands, and puts one on each side of his neck, cupping around him. “It should be warmer here.”

What a peculiar scene it must be: two boys under the streetlights, one still learning, and the other too afraid to bridge the gap, both in denial and latching onto the excuse for warmth. Shouyou lets himself smile, just a little.

“Man, your hands are _freezing,_ ” he comments, half-laughing, and tries not to wince when Kageyama’s fingers shift, and the setter looks almost tense. Shouyou knows Kageyama isn’t one for socializing like he is, and that more often that not all Kageyama really needs is a bit of time. But Shouyou can be patient when he wants to be, so he grins up at him to try making it easier. It’s selfish of him, he knows, to make Kageyama hold onto him like this, and he feels really bad, but it’s too nice to give up, and if Kageyama truly hated it, he would’ve pulled away by now. But he hasn’t, and Shouyou isn’t going to be the first to mention it. “Make sure you bring a warmer jacket too,” Shouyou says. “It’s only going to get colder.”

It takes Kageyama a moment to answer, his expression a little dazed. “Um—what?”

“Bring a jacket tomorrow,” Shouyou repeats. Kageyama’s skin is surprisingly… _soft_ , he thinks to himself. Really soft. “It’ll get even colder now.”

“Oh. I know,” Kageyama mumbles, mostly to his scarf than to Shouyou, barely looking him in the eye. “You’re—” he starts, before faltering. _A bit of time,_ Shouyou reminds himself, and looks at Kageyama with the gentlest smile he can muster. (In truth, he’s finding that smiles are coming easier and easier around Kageyama.) “Warm. You’re really warm.”

“Thank you,” Shouyou says, even though he’s not really sure if it’s a compliment or not. Kageyama’s eyes flick to him for a second, a whole storm in them, before he tears his gaze away again, cheeks reddening, perhaps due to the sudden chill that sweeps by them. “It helps if one of us is, if winter is going to be long.”

“I’ll—I’ll warm you up next time,” Kageyama says, with simple determination dipped in his words, and there goes Shouyou’s heart again with the star jumps, thumping hard and fast at the promise of _next time_. Maybe he was wrong, after all. Maybe it’ll be a more-than-once wonder instead. “It’s only fair.”

“Okay,” Shouyou says too quickly, and he has half a mind to be embarrassed, but the giddiness is filling him up like a shaken bottle of soda, and he feels the fizz brimming at the surface of his grin. He feels all _gwah_ and _pwah_ inside. “Hey, Kageyama—”

The window to the store opens with a sudden _bang!_ and both of them jump from where they stand by the entrance. Kageyama’s hands fall from Shouyou’s neck with surprise, and Hinata lets himself mourn the loss of warmth for a brief moment.

“Oi! Shouldn’t you two be heading home? It’s almost dinner time!” Coach Ukai yells, before slamming the window shut again with a couple more grumbles from the other side.

Shouyou looks at Kageyama, and the words he had thought to say have all disappeared from his lips. He can’t even remember what they were going to be, or if they were important. He figures maybe not, if he had forgotten so quickly, and dismisses it. Heartfelt conversations don’t have a place here anyway. Kageyama looks unsure, and Shouyou just shrugs, and gestures to the road ahead of them. Kageyama seems to understand well enough, and Shouyou entertains himself with the idea that they have a secret language all of their own, made-up words that only exist inside their head and only make sense to their ears. He likes it.

Shouyou picks up his bike from where it lies on the side, and holds it steady with one hand. Kageyama falls into step beside him, something he’s seemingly grown used to over these past few months like an unnoticed habit. Shouyou feels his pulse beat like a hummingbird in his chest at the thought of holding Kageyama’s hand again—and that he’d actually done it—and he turns away, keeping his eyes on the snow-crusted road ahead of him. Cheeks burning from something that isn’t the cold, he feels his stomach squirm, but in a good way. He’s really not sure about any of this, or what it could possibly mean, but he has a feeling he’s getting there, about to stumble upon some grand revelation, but he can’t tell how close he is.

Shouyou’s never really been all too good at thinking to begin with.

They reach the foot of the hill where a streetlight stands like a lighthouse in the dark, the spot where they usually part ways. Shouyou up the hill, and Kageyama down the road. Icy frost curls around the post’s metal, dirt snow crunches under the soles of their shoes. He lets out a little sigh, and watches as the smoke rises, up and up, until he’s caught breathless on the storm-eyes that find his own.

Kageyama Tobio looks beautiful under the moonlight, like waves crashing out of the blue of his irises, porcelain cheekbones uncracked and unmarked by any blemishes, pink blooming like little sunspots. Darkness slopes around his nose, and it fractures the lamp light into fragments, a waltz on the crease between his eyebrows. Hair made of midnight, sweeping into the shadows, and his gaze is a gentle rain on Shouyou’s skin, but it feels like a hurricane is brewing in the space between them, on the inches that lay bare to keep them apart, and Shouyou lets himself wonder what it would be like to close that gap. To touch Kageyama without much of a proper excuse, where just wanting it is enough to warrant it. What would it be like then?

“Um,” he says, and it’s like his words and his breath have been stolen from him by the boy who’s supposed to be immune from winter, who’s looking right back at him and expecting him to say something. So he musters up a toothy grin, directs it right at Kageyama, and watches the color flush warmer on his face. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Kageyama!”

And then Kageyama does something, something so simple, but Shouyou feels something drop in his stomach, a floodgate finally bursting open, and this is it, isn’t it?

Kageyama _smiles._ His lips curve upward, small, sincere, crooked, and absolutely _breathtaking_.

“See you tomorrow,” Kageyama says, and Shouyou understands what it is all at once—far too late for the universe but much too quick for his own liking—and he feels like he’s slipping on ice, out of control, holding onto his bike handle for dear life. The sky is bursting open, bright and blue as daylight, and Hinata Shouyou is in a freefall.

 _See you tomorrow,_ Kageyama had said, and Shouyou realizes that he wants to see Kageyama tomorrow and the next day and the day after that, until all of his tomorrows are filled with winter hearts, and he never ever wants that to stop, even until he dies, and he thinks that he might just be a little in love with Kageyama Tobio.

Oh.

Oh _no._

“Yeah, I’ll—I’ll see you!” Shouyou squeaks out, hastily jumping on his bike and turning the pedals. Kageyama looks at him in surprise, but says nothing more as Hinata shifts his bag over his shoulder and starts kicking. He doesn’t look back, not to see if Kageyama is still there, or if he’s still looking. He’s not sure what he would do if he found what he’d left behind.

Because at the end of the day, here is what lies fundamentally true: Kageyama is his partner. His _volleyball_ partner. He’s Shouyou’s setter, and the first to believe in him, despite his lack of height and his still-growing skills. They’re friends, and they have a really good thing going, and ruining that is the last thing Shouyou will ever want. And this—this thing, this _crush_ —will only get in the way. They don’t have time for silly things like _feelings_ or _love,_ not when Shouyou himself has so much making up to do, and volleyball needs to always be the first thing on his mind.

And what would Kageyama think, anyway? He’s never mentioned liking someone, and he doesn’t seem to care for love stories or confessions—and Shouyou heard the tales before. He knows how badly this could all go wrong, how disastrous and messy (and lovely) it can all become if he takes the wrong step. Kageyama would only tell him to focus on volleyball, because that’s what’s important, that’s what matters, and crushes, Shouyou had just now decided, don’t.

So what if he likes Kageyama more than a friend? What if he sometimes wants to hold his hand and press kisses to the inside of the setter’s wrist? What if he wants to be with Kageyama all the time, even if they’re not playing volleyball? What if he wants all those things and so much more? It doesn’t have to change anything. He won’t let it. Volleyball and Kageyama are almost synonymous, so intertwined that Hinata can’t imagine one without the other, and he’s not about to risk losing either of them. He can’t.

He knows this story, remember? He knows how it ends.

This could only end in ruin. In fire, in shambles, in disaster. In all senses of wrong. His stomach drops at the thought of it, at the helplessness, and feels a bitter sting at the back of his throat. This is all just one big bad idea.

Maybe this is what they really mean, the feeling of falling from the sky. This is what it’s like to not know when you will hit the ground, only hoping that something else will be there to break your fall.

And it’s not like he can blame Kageyama for all of this. Maybe that part’s even worse than the rest of this whole situation, because even if their beginning was rough, and Kageyama can be mean sometimes and use the wrong words when he’s actually being heartfelt, he’s always trying. Kageyama is always trying to do better, and ever since then, Shouyou has learned to take things one at a time. And even after all of it, he and Kageyama have always managed to be able to understand each other perfectly.

So he’ll ignore it for now. He’ll push it _down down down_ and try his best to forget about it. Maybe it’ll be hard, and it’ll be difficult, especially since his throat feels like closing up when he thinks of blue eyes and a wobbly smile, and Kageyama has a funny way of making him so stupidly happy with just a look, but he’ll get through it. Hinata Shouyou is made of determination and unwavering resolve when he puts his mind to it, and this is no exception. Kageyama has carved a spot into his heart and made himself a home, but Shouyou is going to make sure that it never grows any more than that. Kingdoms can’t crumble if they were never built in the first place, and Shouyou will put up the garden gates and the warning signs on his own if he must.

So he’ll love Kageyama, but only for a little while. He won’t let it go too far.

It’ll pass, won’t it?

So he bikes through the snow, feeling the cold numb his cheeks, willing his heart to look away, and allows himself only one more thought of Kageyama Tobio for the night. He sighs, and admits to himself that Kageyama is both the best and worst person to fall in love with, and that really, in all honesty, he wouldn’t have it any other way.

In the spring, the third-years gather to graduate.

The Karasuno volleyball team is there to greet them before they go, with Ennoshita at the front to guide them. They’re all quick to congratulate their upperclassmen, and Tanaka and Nishinoya have tears in their eyes as they gather around Asahi. Daichi is speaking to Ennoshita, who also looks like he’s about to cry but is desperately holding it in, and Shimizu is hugging Yachi, who’d burst into tears before they even started speaking. Sugawara is talking to Kageyama, setter to setter, but also as friends, a mischievous glint in his eye.

Shouyou’s heart feels like it’s about to burst.

 _I’m looking forward to it,_ Daichi had told him and Kageyama back in the gym. He’d looked so sure, so certain, of this future that only he could see. Maybe it was a determination that was built from everything else—from his own rough beginning at Karasuno, to the family that they’d all become in such a short amount of time. And Shouyou hadn’t really understood what he meant, but whatever it was, he knows that Daichi will always be his captain. Even if there will never be a team like this again, even if it changes over and over, nothing will be able to break the steadiness of a captain’s will. As long as there are still players, allies—as long as there’s still a team, what they’ve learned from their upperclassmen are just things that they will learn to pass down like stories. All the skills they’ve honed, the techniques and the strategies—those don’t end, not really. There will always be something new to learn, to conquer, and the playing won’t ever stop, not if Shouyou can help it.

So maybe it looks like the end for this team. Maybe it seems like that that was the furthest they could go. Maybe it’s all they were built for. Maybe that’s all they could do.

But it isn’t over. It isn’t, because the things you learn from others are bits you will always carry with you until it becomes a part of you. Even if the people on the team change, the things that old members left behind will stick with the new ones, and change and grow into something bolder and better. There will always be a piece of Daichi that will remain in Karasuno, the part of him that they called captain and flowed steady reassurance. There will always be Sugawara’s brilliance, his reliability and wits, and the signs that he made up for his juniors will be used over and over again even by people who didn’t know him. There will always be Asahi’s strength, his willpower and his gentleness, the way he had inspired Shouyou himself to earn the title of _ace_. And of course, there will always be Shimizu’s tenacity, her perseverance to learn and to teach, to always stand at the front of the battlefield with the rest of the team. Those kinds of things don’t go so quietly, and they will remain like echoes of days past, of volleyballs hitting the ground over and over, of calls of _nice receive_ and _once more._

So even if it stops here, it doesn’t really end. Some things are stronger than endings, and it only helps to hold on to the things you don’t want to lose.

And for Shouyou, it’s only just beginning.

“I think I have a crush on Kageyama,” Shouyou blurts out in the middle of their tutoring session. He clamps a hand over his mouth, eyes widening at his own confession, and feels his cheeks heat up.

Yachi drops her pen, snapping her head up to look at him. “What?”

He looks around, nervously eyeing the few people in the classroom around them, but none of them seem to be paying any attention to him. Shouyou lets out a sigh of relief. He turns back to Yachi, who’s still staring at him, a pink flush on her face. “I think I have a crush on Kageyama,” he says again, lower this time, groaning and bringing his hands up to cover his face. “Sorry.”

Shouyou doesn’t know why he said it. He’d just been balancing the highlighters on the corner of his desk, then staring out the window, watching the clouds and thinking about all the funny shapes they made, when he’d realized that today’s sky looked a lot like Kageyama’s eyes, and how pretty they were when all the colors mixed and looked into them during sunsets. Then he’d started thinking about wanting to hold Kageyama’s hand, or maybe just standing close to him, because that would probably be just enough for him, and he’ll take whatever he can get. That feeling in his chest came back, like an old ache in his heart, and he’d remembered all of a sudden that he finally had a name for it.

A _crush._

He remembers the night he realized it well, even if it’s already been a week since then, and he can’t get Kageyama out of his head at all. The feeling had grown and grown and it felt like if he didn’t tell anyone he would explode, and it’s also just really unfortunate that Yachi had to be the one to witness it. It’s been a long time coming, really, and Shouyou feels like he should at least know what to do, but he’s coming up short.

He told himself that he’d ignore it, but how can he forget a crush so big that it’s all he can think about? And it doesn’t even help to just think about volleyball, because where there’s volleyball, there’s also Kageyama, and what is Shouyou supposed to do now?

“No, don’t—it’s not your—I just didn’t—” Yachi stammers, her eyes flickering everywhere else but on his face. She covers her face with her hand, taking a deep breath. “I just wasn’t expecting it.”

Shouyou nods, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, it was kinda out of nowhere, wasn’t it?”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Yachi asks him, setting her pencil aside, and propping her arm up on the desk. “I can just be here to listen. It’s okay if you don’t want to.”

“I know it’s stupid,” Shouyou admits, and he’s hit with that ache in his chest again, that _longing_ he can’t really put into words. Yachi’s expression shifts into something concerned. They’ve grown a lot closer now, and he trusts her to say stuff like this, so he doesn’t need to worry about her spilling his secret everywhere else. “It’s stupid because all I need to be focusing on is volleyball, and it’s _Kageyama._ You know he doesn’t care about stuff like that.”

Shouyou presses his cheek against the palm of his hand, eyes gazing back to the sky, like Kageyama’s eyes on a clear day. Hopeless infatuation is what people would call this, he thinks. Blowing out a breath, he continues, that ache only deepening, “It’s just like—I want to be with him all the time, even if we’re not playing volleyball. Like last week, he came over to my house again, and I was so excited! We didn’t even practice or anything! We did homework! _Homework_ , Yachi, but I was so happy! What’s up with that?”

Yachi smiles, giggling a little. “I think that’s pretty cute, actually.”

He groans, lowering himself onto the table until his forehead knocks against the wood. This is so incredibly stupid. It’s _Kageyama_ , of all people. He really shouldn’t be overthinking something like this. “I’ve just never felt like this about anyone before. Whenever something happens to me,” he says, picking himself back up. “He’s the first person I want to tell, you know? Even if it’s dumb, like getting something in the mail, or—or buying new shoes. Sometimes I just look at him, and I just wanna hold his hand, you know?”

Shouyou sighs, frustrated. “This is so stupid. _He’s_ so stupid. What’s Kageyama got anyway? Sure, sometimes he’s really pretty, and he’s amazing at volleyball, but those are just objective facts, right? And maybe it really only comes out once you bug him enough, but I _guess_ he can be really nice when you think about it, and he’s really honest, and he does care a lot…”

“Hinata,” Yachi says softly, placing a gentle hand over his own. “It’s okay to have feelings. Even if it’s a little crush or a big one, _and_ it’s on Kageyama. That doesn’t mean they’re stupid.”

He buries his head into the fold of his crossed arms. “Yeah, but it’s not like it’s not like it’s going to go anywhere. Kageyama, he doesn’t—”

“Have you tried telling him?” she asks him, raising an eyebrow. “Maybe Kageyama’s never really shown an interest in stuff like that, but he might if he understands what you feel.”

“I can’t tell him that!” Shouyou exclaims. He winces when he realizes he’d been too loud, and that people have turned their eyes on him. Blushing, he waits another moment before speaking, lowering his voice. “I can’t tell him that. What if it just makes things weird between us and it ruins our playing? I’m lucky enough to have both of them right now, and if I let that happen… It’ll be all my fault.”

“Then just try asking him what he _is_ interested in,” Yachi offers. She picks up her eraser and twirls it around in her hand. “You don’t have to confess if you don’t want to. Just ask, and maybe you can go from there.”

Shouyou nods, letting her words sink in. It sounds like an idea. It’s obvious to everyone that Kageyama’s never really given a second thought to all the girls who confessed to him, but he’s always claimed it was because they didn’t know each other all that well for it to actually mean something. So what would it take then, for Kageyama Tobio to say yes?

“Thanks, Yachi,” he says, and he shoots her a grin. “That sounds good. I’ll try it.”

“I might not have a high success rate when it comes to crushes,” Yachi says, and her smile turns sheepish, a pale pink dusting her cheeks. “But I have a good feeling about you and Kageyama. It’ll work out.”

Shouyou hums, idly picking up his pencil and turning it around with his fingers. Something warm spreads in his chest at her words, even if he’s still doubtful of it. At least someone believes he’ll get it right. He just—he just doesn’t want to ruin it. What happens if he confesses and nothing is ever the same again? He can’t let that happen. “You think so?”

“I know so,” Yachi says, grinning. Picking up her pen, she taps the end on Shouyou’s half-filled notebook. “But first, finish copying my notes, okay? We can keep discussing your _love life_ later,” she teases, laughing.

He turns flustered. “Yachi! Don’t call it that!”

She only laughs even more. “But that’s what it is, isn’t it? Oh, this is so _cute_.”

Shouyou feels his cheeks burn. “It’s not cute. It’s terrible.”

“Now get back to work! We can think about what you should say to him after,” she tells him, grinning. There’s a certain light to her eyes—excitement, maybe—and while Shouyou’s incredibly embarrassed about this whole thing, he’s glad to have told someone just to get it off his chest. At least he isn’t alone.

“Yes, ma’am!” he says, picking up his pen, and focusing back on his notes. It’s a lot to think about, and Shouyou doesn’t think he’ll ever be brave enough to confess—not when there is so much at stake, but the thought of being able to have something like _that_ with Kageyama…it turns his heart into a hummingbird taking flight, and Shouyou can only try to grasp what it would be like. Maybe in another lifetime, when things aren’t so messy, and he’ll have the courage for it. Maybe they could have something like that.

But first, he needs to figure out what to say.

Hinata is acting weird.

That’s to put it very loosely, because in Tobio’s opinion, Hinata is always weird to a certain degree, but today might be an exception. He’s gotten used to all the strange and random thoughts Hinata comes up with no matter the hour of the day, and it’s hard not to when they’re nearly always together, especially since they’d been put in the same class this year. There’s just something that’s off about him this time around. Something Tobio can’t quite place.

It’s really confusing. For starters, he keeps turning bright red whenever Tobio so much as just _looks_ at him, even if he isn’t about to yell at Hinata for messing up a serve. But summer _is_ slowly peeling through the days, so maybe he’s just really hot? Hinata never really used to have a problem with the heat, though, so Tobio doesn’t quite understand. He keeps looking over at Tobio too, when he thinks that the setter himself is distracted (but Hinata is terribly obvious, and Tobio’s already so attuned to knowing where Hinata is at all times that he can always see the middle blocker out of the corner of his eye), and he always moves away when Tobio comes close. He isn’t really talking to Tobio a lot, either, which is even more off-putting because he’s usually hanging around by Tobio’s side, going on about whatever manga he started reading or thing that Natsu did like the proud big brother he is.

The strangest part, Tobio thinks, is that Hinata hasn’t asked for a single toss all day.

Which is why he’s been stuck trying out tosses with the new first-years, trying to see which ones they like best. All the new members are pretty tall, but none of them have yet to beat Tsukishima in towering height, and they don’t seem to be as prodigious as Nishinoya was. It’s not that Tobio’s complaining about doing this, because of course it’s important for him to get attuned to everyone’s best kind of toss, and he’s fine as long as he’s practicing, any volleyball is still volleyball, but he has to admit—it’s not exactly the same. It’s…different, when there’s no fiery-haired boy trying to grab his attention for some quick tosses.

Maybe he’s just gotten so used to having Hinata around that him not being there feels like he’s missing something. That’s dangerous, isn’t it? Relying too much on someone that you feel weird without them?

So it’s whatever. It’s fine. Perhaps he’s just overthinking the whole thing, and Hinata is actually perfectly fine. It’s not like his playing is off, either—he even received really well in the practice match that they had earlier, and he has yet to miss a serve—so Tobio can’t exactly march up to him and ask what’s wrong. No, this is different. Maybe something happened to him. What if it’s an emotional thing? Tobio’s not really good at dealing with those, and Hinata usually bounces back after a while. What if he really is just overreacting?

But Tobio thinks he knows Hinata pretty well by now, with all the time that they spend together, and he’s almost a hundred percent sure there’s something wrong. Call it a gut feeling or whatever, but there’s just something different, and it’s killing Tobio that he can’t put a name on it.

Just as he picks up a stray ball rolling towards him, Tobio can feel Hinata’s eyes on him, an intense weight settling against his back. There it is again, he thinks to himself. Something must be up, right? Hinata usually only gets like this when he wants Tobio to toss to him, but he hasn’t called for one yet.

When Tobio suddenly turns to look at him, head turning, Hinata’s eyes widen at being caught red-handed and he immediately glances away, staring up at the net ahead of him. But it’s too late, and he must sense it with the way his shoulders tense up as Tobio walks over to him, ball in hand.

“Hey, Kageyama,” Hinata says casually, but his eyes are everywhere else but on Tobio, and his cheeks are growing a steady flow of pink.

Tobio squints at him. Normally, Hinata would be up in his face by now, demanding for tosses no matter how exhausted. “Are you okay,” he states, because it’s not a question when he already knows the answer. This is really just for formalities.

“Uh,” Hinata says, eloquent as always, and his face flushes bright red. Fingers fumbling with the hem of his shirt, not once ever stopping, Hinata lets out a weak laugh, and all these things are just what Tobio’s learned as Hinata’s tells of nervousness. His hands always give away what his eyes and mouth don’t. “I’m fine? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Tobio is suddenly very glad that Ennoshita had called for a break two minutes earlier, because he can tell that this might be a very difficult and stubborn conversation. “No, you’re not,” he says, narrowing his eyes at his friend. He takes Hinata’s wrist to pull them both into a corner of the gym, where they’re less likely to be overheard. “You’ve been weird all day.”

“I’m not being weird!” Hinata exclaims, crossing his arms defensively. “You’re the one who’s being weird!”

“You’re terrible at lying,” Tobio tells him without missing a beat.

Hinata scoffs, obviously flustered. “I—I am not!” he says. “You’re—you’re the one—”

“You can’t use the same comeback twice,” Tobio tells him, and he’s trying to be patient, he really is, but it’s even more glaringly obvious that something is wrong, and he doesn’t know why Hinata can’t just tell him. Does he not trust him for it? “Look,” he says. “I get it if you don’t—if you don’t want to tell me, but there’s something wrong, isn’t there? That’s why you’re being all weird? Why you keep staring at me?”

Hinata’s blush only deepens. “Have I really been…?” he mumbles, mostly to himself. Then he looks up at Tobio properly, but his eyes still hold a thin thread of nervousness in them. “It’s not that something’s _wrong,_ exactly…” Hinata says, gesturing around with his hands. “I mean, sort of? I’m just—I realized something recently, and I’m still trying to figure it out.”

“Oh,” Tobio says. “Does it have something to do with me?”

He seems to have hit the mark, because then Hinata’s shoulder tense up again, and his arm comes up to the back of his neck.

“You don’t have to tell me,” Tobio repeats slowly, feeling his own cheeks warm. “But if I’m doing something wrong, or if it’s something I’ve done, then—then I can try fixing it.”

“You don’t have to do anything!” Hinata says immediately, holding his hands out. His eyes widen at his own words, and he takes a step back. “It’s not…it’s not something you can fix. I’ve just got to learn to deal with it, that’s all.”

What kind of realization was it, Tobio wonders? If it has something to do with him but there’s nothing he can really do about it, then what could it possibly be?

“Can I—can I ask you a question though?” Hinata asks, his voice small, and his eyes are tucked back into the ground, the color matching the deep brown. “Don’t overthink it, okay? And don’t ask any questions.”

Tobio thinks that Hinata’s being as cryptic as hell, but decides not to mention it. “Okay,” he says.

Hinata exhales deeply, as if preparing himself for something grand. Looking straight up at Tobio, his eyes shine with luster, and he holds his ground. “If someone were to ever confess to you, what would get you to say yes?”

Tobio blinks. Well, he certainly hadn’t been expecting that. “Uh,” he says, because he’s really not sure at all. He’s never really thought about it before. Sure, girls have pulled him out into the hallway to give him letters, but he’s never really actually considered it. He never thought he had time for stuff like that anyway, but maybe Hinata does, and that’s why he’s asking. “I don’t really know? What does it have to do with you?”

“No questions, remember?” Hinata says, and there’s a little crease between his eyebrows. Tobio wonders what it would be like to reach over and smooth it out. “Just—what kind of person would you say yes to?”

Tobio hums in contemplation. “I don’t really like anyone right now,” he says, and maybe he’s imagining it, the way Hinata’s face falls just a bit, like a trick of the light. “But I think that if—if I did see someone that way, I’d want them to know me? And they’d have to play volleyball. It wouldn’t make any sense if they didn’t.”

“So if…” Hinata says, and his arms hide behind his back as he sways forward with uncertainty. “So if it were a friend, would you be open to it?”

Tobio shrugs. He’s not really sure where this is going. “Probably? It depends if I like them too, but like I said, there isn’t really anyone right now, I think.”

“Oh,” Hinata says. He nods once, then twice, like he’s trying to convince himself of something, or try to commit it to memory. “Okay. Cool. Thanks, Bakageyama.”

“So you’ll stop being weird now?” Tobio asks, hopeful.

To his dismay, Hinata shakes his head. “Maybe…maybe not _now_ , but eventually. I’ll get over it soon. Don’t worry about me.”

But it’s a setter’s job to worry about his spiker, and a friend’s duty to care about the other, Tobio wants to say, but decides against it. “Okay,” Tobio tells him. “But if you need someone—I know I’m not the best at words, but if you do need someone, you can talk to me? I can try to help.” Especially if the problem involves Tobio himself.

Hinata just smiles, a little weary and tired. Tobio wonders what exactly is it that he’s chasing after to get him like this, and why it’s eluding him so badly. “I know,” he says, soft and fond, and Tobio hands him another smile in return.

Maybe he doesn’t really understand, but he does trust Hinata, and that will have to be enough for now. And when Hinata gets over whatever it is he’s thinking about, then Tobio will be there to pick up whatever’s left. Even if he doesn’t know what’s going to happen in the future, he’s promised Hinata so many _next times_ already, and he has no intention of ever going back on his word.

When Tobio pushes open the door to his home, there is nothing but silence to greet him. With the streetlights spilling into the open entry, the shadows make their way in, cutting around the corners and breaking into fractions. He flicks the switch on from the side, and the overhead lights dispel any of the remaining darkness as they retreat back into the crevices through the walls. Shutting the door behind him, he cuts off the warm, oncoming summer air, and stands instead in the chill of an empty house.

Tobio drops his bag off in his room, and goes for a quick shower before heading back into the kitchen to prepare dinner. Today’s practice had been particularly grueling with the Interhigh Qualifiers coming up in three weeks, so he doesn’t really feel like making anything too complicated. He’ll just go for his usual pork curry with egg, his movements practiced and easy. He’s used to making his dinners like this, especially since his parents are always out so late. He makes his breakfast and lunch, too, but his mom will sometimes do it when she’s less busy.

He wonders what time they’ll be coming home tonight.

Tobio settles into the chair, clapping his hands together in thanks before diffing unto the meal he’d laid before himself. He thinks about his playing today, and how he did pretty well. The new starting first-years seem to be getting the hang of things, and Nishinoya had take one of them under his wing for libero training. Even Tsukishima was willing to instruct two of the taller ones more about blocking, and Yamaguchi was trying to teach another one how to float serve. Hell, Hinata’s got most of them wrapped around his finger even with just the way he speaks about volleyball, eyes so sparkly and sky high, going on and on about what it’s like to fly and see the other side. He’s got what he calls _Decoy Tricks_ now, which he keeps trying to tell them about, and Tobio just rolls his eyes whenever Hinata goes on that tangent again. While he’s glad that Hinata had finally accepted his role as decoy, just like he’d been saying the whole time, there really is so much he can take. Even being the first to believe in Hinata has its limits, after all.

In all honesty, Tobio’s also relieved to see that Hinata’s more-or-less back to normal now—it had taken a couple of days, but eventually Hinata stopped jumping every time Tobio was near, and he started clinging to Tobio’s side again like nothing ever happened. Maybe Tobio really had gotten _too_ used to it. He’s not sure how it all happened in the first place, how they ended up here, like this, much closer than Tobio had ever thought they would be.

At least that means Hinata will be fine for the Qualifiers. That’s one less thing to worry about. He’ll have to sit down and put this all in his volleyball log later, just so that he won’t forget. And he needs to work on his own serve, too, to improve his aim without losing any power.

With that final thought, Tobio finishes his meal, and stands to bring it to the sink. Just as he’s on his way there, his eyes catch on one of the picture frames on the wall. It’s one of him and Miwa, back when they were a lot younger. There’s a volleyball tucked under his sister’s arm, and Tobio stands next to her with wide eyes, his mouth a wobbly circle, and Miwa’s grinning right at the camera. Tobio remembers this day. They’d spent the afternoon just tossing the ball to each other and running around, the summer heat on their backs as their laughter filled the backyard. He was exhausted when they day ended, but it was the most fun he’d ever had. Tobio stares right at it, and there’s something else he remembers too.

His grandfather had taken this photo.

Kazuyo had been the one that he and Miwa spent the most time with. He’s the one who taught them how to play volleyball, or Tobio grew up so accustomed with the feel of the ball against his fingers. He’s the reason why Tobio’s here today, trying to get closer and closer to his goal so that he can make his grandfather proud. Without him, Tobio doesn’t know where he’d be.

It had been hard when Tobio lost him. There’d been an emptiness he couldn’t fill no matter how hard he tried, and everything felt wrong. In his bones was a shifting that he could never calm, unnerving him in every waking moment, and an underlying current of doubt and fear that filled his very being. And when no one was there to spike the ball he tossed, he’d almost lost volleyball too. It had been awful, and Tobio had thought it would never end.

Then he’d met Hinata, and Kazuyo’s words suddenly came back to him in startling clarity. How could he ever forget?

_If you get really good, I promise you, somebody who’s even better will come and find you._

And every time he thinks of it, every time it comes back to him like a faded memory, it grounds him, and makes him remember that maybe someone _did_ find him, and that all he has to do is see where this road takes them. Because Hinata had stopped him on the sunset afternoon, declaring that he’d be able to stand on the court the longest, and Tobio’s never really forgotten that. He didn’t think he’d see Hinata again so soon—or if he’d see him again at all, really—but then there he was, standing by the doorway with a shell shocked expression, a heavy line of determination and anger to prove himself right. It was a mismatched reunion filled with a lot of shouting and accusations, and Tobio cursed himself for what he did to deserve this.

And then it happened.

He tossed to Hinata Shouyou, and everything changed. Just like when he’d seen Hinata run all the way to the over side of the court to fly, his instincts and skills so amazing that they deserved to be polished until they shone even without the glitter, Tobio had known. Tobio knew that Hinata would be his _someone better_ , and that the time they spent playing together would only fuel them for it.

Even if Hinata’s head had been full of fantasies of becoming the ace and flying, Tobio’s come to learn that Hinata can make any story true if he wills it, as scary and thrilling as it is. And Tobio knows, with unwavering certainty, that they’ll both make it to the top of the world. It’s their promise, after all, this invincibility, and there’s no way Tobio is going to miss it.

(Because after middle school Tobio had been so focused on always bringing out the one hundred percent in all of his spikers, just like Oikawa could, and he’d worn a king’s crown because of it. But then a small orange idiot had come along, and he ran up to Tobio, closed his eyes, and said, with unwavering faith, _I trust you._

And it’s been like that ever since.)

He finishes up the dishes, wiping his hands on a spare towel, and figures that he should at least _try_ to get some homework done. If he fails his exams, they might not let him play in the Qualifiers, and that would be the worst thing to ever happen to him. Maybe the homework won’t be too hard this time around. Yachi’s really been helping him and Hinata understand the lessons, and even though he’s not that good at showing it, he’s been grateful for her existence ever since. He likes studying with Hinata a lot, too, even if they argue more than they answer questions, and Hinata’s always doodling little things on the corner of Tobio’s notebook. With Hinata, it’s easy for him to tell where he stands. He doesn’t need to feel stupid because Hinata’s stupid right with him. It’s like idiot solidarity, Tobio thinks to himself. It’s simple with Hinata, and that’s just how he likes it.

Right when Tobio flips open his notebook with questions to greet him, his phone buzzes on his bed, and he reaches out for it. His phone chimes a catchy pop song he’d heard Hinata sing before, since Hinata’s the one who set the ringtone to this every time he called.

“Kageyama!” Hinata says the moment the line connects, and there’s a little static in the background. His voice crackles. “I wanted to ask you something!”

“I haven’t even looked at the questions, if that’s what you’re asking,” Tobio tells him. He glances at his notebook, eyes the weird and complicated-looking words written on them, and already feels the defeat begin to weigh on his chest.

“Huh? What are you talking about?” Hinata asks.

“The homework,” he clarified. Raising an eyebrow, “Dumbass, did you forget there was homework?”

“What? Of course not!” Hinata laughs, but it’s nervous and tilted around the edges, and it’s not fooling anyone. Tobio rolls his eyes. “Okay, maybe I did forget. But I’ll do it later! That’s not the point of this!”

Curious, he presses his phone closer to his ear. He leans back on his chair, gaze turning outside to the starry night sky before him. A whole mountain away, he imagines Hinata sitting close by a window of his own, watching for shooting stars. “What’s the point then?”

There’s a beat of silence, like Hinata is trying to collect enough breath for it, summoning all his courage. Then, loud enough that Tobio swears he could hear it without a phone line to connect them, Hinata says, “Do you want to go into town with me on Sunday?”

Tobio blinks. “What?”

“We could go shopping! I’ve been meaning to get some new shirts for practice, since they’re getting kinda old. And you can buy whatever you want too,” Hinata explains cheerily. “So what do you say? We could go to one of those shops that have eating contests!”

Tobio _has_ been meaning to buy new knee pads before the Qualifiers. He mulls it over, trying to imagine what it would be like—him and Hinata, just going around, like what friends do. What is there for him to lose anyway? They don’t have school or practice that day, and it wouldn’t be so bad, would it?

Clearing his throat, “Sure,” he says after a moment. “Yeah, we can go.”

“Really?” Hinata says excitedly, like he doesn’t quite believe it. “You want to?”

“We have to stop by the sports store, though. I need new knee pads,” he tells Hinata. “You sure about those eating contests? I’m gonna beat you, easy.”

“Yeah, that’s fine!” Hinata says. Then he scoffs, adding on, “We’ll see about that, Bakageyama! It’s gonna be me!”

“In your dreams, dumbass,” Tobio retorts. His pen rolls to the floor then, and his attention is brought back to the task at hand. “Now go do your homework. If you fail, they won’t let you play, remember?”

“I know, I know,” he answers, letting out a little yelp. “But I’m really excited! I can meet you at the station at ten!”

“Okay,” he tells Hinata, nodding even if the other boy can see it. “I’ll be going now.”

“Bye!” Hinata says, and then the call disconnects, a long beep in his ear. Tobio is thrown back into silence, and he turns his gaze back to the window, to the pale clouds and the dark sky. He wonders if Hinata can still make shapes out of them even now, in the shadows. Probably, Tobio thinks. Hinata’s made of a lot of ordinary bits that make his whole extraordinary in the simplest of ways, and Tobio is slowly learning to understand each and every bit. It’s always predictable with Hinata, but he doesn’t mind coming along for the ride.

Not a minute later, Tobio’s phone lights up with a text from Hinata. It’s a link to an online quiz titled _Which Breakfast Food Are You?_ with very detailed pictures. Hinata’s also taken to sending him quizzes these days, and he always tells Tobio his result. Just yesterday, he’d sent one to determine which kind of dessert you were, and both he and Kageyama had gotten the same answer of _a five-layered cake with as many flavors put inside as possible._ He’d been pretty happy about that one.

Picking out his answers, Tobio gets _eggs_. Figures.

He tells this to Hinata, who in turn replies with the fact he’d gotten bacon. There’s a long string of emojis that follow, ones Tobio can’t really bother to decipher, and he settles for just shutting his phone off and tossing it back on his bed.

With a long sigh, Tobio faces his notebook again, reading the words. Putting his head in his hands, he tells himself that he’s spent enough time stalling, and he really ought to get to work now. The moon hanging high in the sky behind him, Tobio resigns himself to his homework, and prays to whatever gods that are out there to help him get through it.

“Kageyama! Kageyama, look! Look at it!”

“I _am_ looking at it, dumbass,” Tobio says, bending his knees a little. The little yellow fish in the tank stares directly at him, unblinking, before swimming away slowly. “Weird fish.”

“ _You’re_ a weird fish,” Hinata says, snickering. “ _Tobiuo_.”

“Shut up,” he says, rolling his eyes. “And you’re annoying.”

“That’s not true! I’m a _delight!”_ Hinata counters with a bright grin.

He snorts. “Whoever told you that is lying.”

Hinata crosses his arms, shaking his head. “Mean, Bakageyama. _Mean.”_

Tobio just ignores him. He straightens his legs out again, and looks around the store. Several fish tanks are lined up on the shelves, some bigger than others. They’d just finished looking at all the different birds before they found themselves surrounded by all the fish. “Why’d you wanna go in here anyway? Are you planning on buying anything?”

Hinata’s pout fades in an instant, only to be replaced with a huge smile. “I just wanted to see some of the pets! Don’t you ever just go to a pet store to look at all the cute animals?”

“No,” Tobio says flatly. Hinata seems undeterred, huffing, and wrapping his hand around Tobio’s wrist to pull him along. It makes Tobio feel like he’s burning.

“Come on!” Hinata says. “Let’s go see the kittens!”

“I think you’ve forgotten that animals hate me,” he tells his friend as they turn the corner to find a little playpen filled with cats. They stare up at them, and Tobio stares right back. He already has a bad feeling about this. “It never ends well.”

“Oh, shush!” Hinata says, waving a hand around dismissively. He crouches, dropping lower, and holds his hand out. Almost immediately a kitten comes forward, nuzzling its forehead against Hinata’s palms. Tobio blinks. Of course Hinata would have an easy time with animals—he has an easy time with _people_. He’s always so bright and happy and he draws you in without even realizing it, and you’re caught in his orbit before you even know it. He’s…loveable, like that, Tobio thinks, cheeks warming. Maybe not like _that_ , but he’d managed to get Tobio to be his friend, so that should count for something, right? And now he feels like he’s drowning in an ocean of Hinata Shouyou, every part of his being attuned to his friend without even meaning to.

“Here, here, you try, be gentle,” Hinata says softly, and he takes the hand he’d been holding to tug Tobio down. He pushes Tobio’s hand forward, leaving it to hang in the air before the cats.

One of them—a little ginger thing with bright eyes—takes a hesitant step closer, sniffing the air. Then, with curiosity, it takes another and another, before it stands only millimeters away from his outstretched hand. Tobio holds his breath, and tries to not get his hopes up.

“Come on, don’t be afraid,” Hinata says to the kitten, voice gentle. “He’s not as scary as he looks, I promise. He’s a big softie, like a marshmallow.”

Tobio doesn’t want to scare the cat away by yelling, so he resolves to just glare at Hinata, trying to summon it twice as hard. Then something bumps against his hand, a pressure barely even there, soft and warm.

Hinata gasps next to him. “Oh my god.”

Tobio whips his head around to find the kitten pressing its forehead against his palm, ever so faint. It leaves after a short moment, but Tobio isn’t sad at all. In fact, he thinks that the smallest touch may be even something close to a whole _miracle,_ and feels a wobbly smile rise to his lips.

“Holy shit,” he breathes out, pulling his arm back to stare at his palm. Hinata laughs next to him, his grin sharp and bright.

“Told you it would be fine,” Hinata says, lightly bumping their shoulders together. He smiles sunnily at Tobio, and pushes against his knees to stand back up. Holding a hand out, he says, “Mission accomplished.”

Tobio takes it, feeling warmth tingle at the back of his spine at the touch. Hinata doesn’t let go, even when they’re both standing up on stable ground. Tobio’s pulse beats lightning-quick in his chest. He’s used to hard high-fives during games, and pats on his back, but never anything like this. Outside of volleyball, Hinata’s touches are still frequent, sometimes without much of a warning. Tobio thinks back to that winter night, when Hinata had made Tobio place his hands around his neck. He’d nearly gone mad, even almost speechless, at just how… _gentle_ it all was. Hinata’s always gentle with him when it comes to touches, and Tobio’s not really all that sure what it means to have more of it. Is that normal? To want your friend to touch you more? It isn’t, is it? He’s probably just being weird again. Hinata can never know.

“The sports shop isn’t that far, so we can probably head over there before we leave,” Hinata tells him as they step out of the store. Puppies bark when the chimes go off with the door moving, and Tobio follows behind him. He looks up at the sky, the summer afternoon settling nicely around them. “It’s been a pretty good day so far, huh?”

Tobio thinks about how they’d gone to the grocery just to walk around and sample all the freebies without buying anything. “Yeah,” he answers honestly, imagining the laughter that colored Hinata’s cheeks when they’d nearly knocked down a display of water bottles trying to race their carts down the aisle. “It was fun.”

“And ha! I told you I’d beat you at that eating contest,” Hinata says proudly, bumping his fist to his chest. “That’s why you should never doubt me, Kageyama.”

Tobio scoffs. “It was an eating contest, dumbass. It wasn’t that serious.”

“That’s exactly what a loser would say,” he quips back, ducking quickly when Tobio tries to swipe at him. A teasing smile plays on his lips. “Anyway, I think you enjoyed the prize more than I did. That kitten seemed to like you.”

The moment they’d exited the restaurant, stomachs full, Hinata had dragged him all around the other shops, amazed at all the stalls and knickknacks he could buy. He’d even bought two matching crow keychains for the two of them, which Tobio had begrudgingly accepted, but not without his cheeks blossoming pink. Then Hinata had spotted the pet store, and begged Tobio to let them go inside as his prize for winning, and he’d taken Tobio’s hand before he could even open his mouth to say no.

And now they’re here.

“We should do this more often,” Hinata says as they head over to the sports store. He’s not holding Tobio’s hand anymore, and Tobio won’t admit it, but he kind of misses the warmth. Hinata’s like a space heater all on his own. “Like when we’re not practicing and stuff, or when there’s no homework. Then we could buy all the kinds of stuff we want!”

“And then we’d run out of money,” Tobio tells him, an eyebrow raised. He can see the store from here, its blue neon lights glowing brightly in the growing evening. “Which would make all of this useless.”

“Oh, don’t be like that, Kageyama-kun,” Hinata sing-songs. There’s a skip in his step, and Tobio cannot for the life of him fathom how boundless Hinata’s energy seems to be. “There are just some things you need to enjoy, you know? It’s like what Saeko-san said! Sometimes a few detours here and there are okay.”

Tobio only looks at him. Hinata doesn’t seem to notice, perfectly content with humming a tune under his breath, and looking straight up ahead. The orange sky turns his hair into firelight, flickering in and out with the movement of the shadows, and Tobio is a little bit transfixed. His eyes match the horizon exactly, and his freckles seem to pop up even more in the summer, dotting his cheeks like a grand treasure map. It’s breathtaking, Tobio thinks.

“Ooooh, look at those new shoes!” Hinata exclaims, instantly breaking Tobio out of his weird spell. He presses his face against the glass, trying to get a better glimpse.

Tobio just grabs him by the back of the shirt to drag him inside the store. “You can look at them from _inside,_ dumbass.”

“Heh,” Hinata says sheepishly. “Right. I’ll just be here then while you get your knee pads!”

Tobio nods, eyes scanning around through all the choices for the specific brand he likes. There’s not a lot of people around, but not too empty that he has to worry about an employee approaching him to ask if he needs help. It isn’t that Tobio doesn’t appreciate it, because surely they’re just doing their job, but he can be painfully awkward when that happens and he’d rather just avoid it all together for all of their sakes.

When he’s done, he finds that Hinata’s typing away on his phone, bouncing on his toes. He has to let all the energy out somehow, Tobio supposes, always caught in movement.

“I’m done,” he says, announcing his presence. He clutches a brown paper bag in his hands, his wallet a couple of bills later. But his old pair of knee pads were getting pretty worn out already, and it’s better safe than sorry.

Hinata jumps when Tobio speaks, shutting his phone off quickly and tucking it back into his pocket. His face turns red.

“What was that all about?” Tobio says, squinting at him.

“Nothing!” Hinata says. “I was just—I was just talking to Yachi! She was asking me a question about the homework!”

Tobio doesn’t point out that they don’t even _have_ homework, and that it’s him and Hinata asking the questions a lot more often than it is the other way around. But if it was important, he’s sure that Hinata will come around to tell him eventually, so it probably isn’t anything to worry about. “Okay,” he says, shrugging. “We can go now if you don’t need anything.”

Hinata nods. “The next train is leaving in twenty minutes, and the station isn’t too far, so we still have enough time to walk there.”

With that in mind, Tobio pushes the door open, waiting for Hinata to go through before letting it fall closed, and they step back into the summer heat. There’s a couple of people milling around since it’s a weekend, and a lot of families. Some people go by in pairs just like them, with their own lives to discuss and things to get to.

“Okay, Kageyama, you gotta give me your honest opinion,” Hinata says suddenly, and his easiness melts away to give way to seriousness. It makes him worry a little. “Do you or do you not think that the Earth is flat?”

Tobio stares at him. “What the hell kinda question is that?” he blurts out, raising his eyebrows.

“Don’t avoid the question!” Hinata says, looking up at Kageyama with a little crease on his forehead. “So?”

“It’s round, dumbass,” he tells Hinata, sighing in resignation. He’s used to weird questions from Hinata, but that doesn’t mean they don’t catch him off-guard sometimes. “We learned that in school. It being flat doesn’t make sense.”

“Oh, thank god!” Hinata says, throwing his hands up in the air. He beams. “That means we can still be friends!”

“What does that have to do with…?”

“Okay, next question!” Hinata says, barreling onwards and clapping his hands together. They found another corner, and Tobio can hear a train rolling on the tracks as it begins to continue with its journey. “Since you like milk so much, I’m sure you have an answer for this. Do you think chocolate milk comes from brown cows?”

Tobio only looks at him in confusion. There _are_ brown cows, but don’t they all just give the same kind of milk? “I don’t think so?” he says, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “They all give regular milk, don’t they?”

Hinata hums in agreement, a hand coming up to his chin in thought. “Yeah, that’s what I thought too. It was probably Stingyshima just messing with me.”

Tobio scowls at the mention of the blonde. While he and Tsukishima have at least become more civil to each other, he still doesn’t like hanging around him all that much. “Yeah.”

“Hmm, what else?” Hinata says. They enter the station, stopping by the tracks. Tobio eyes the clock to see that there’s six more minutes before their train comes. Hinata snaps his fingers together. “Oh, I know! Ghosts. Real or not real?”

That one makes Tobio pause. Another train comes by, stopping with a screeching halt. He shuffles closer to Hinata as the station turns temporarily crowded by people moving in and out. Their elbows touch, gentle again, and Tobio tries to focus on his thoughts on the supernatural instead of it.

“What do you think?” he says instead, because his brain feels like it’s short-circuiting, and he doesn’t really know why he’s so focused on something so small and stupid like their arms _touching._ They’d touched before, plenty of times, why should this one be any different?

Hinata grins up at him, a troublesome glint in his eyes. He leans up conspiratorially to Tobio, bringing up a hand to cover his mouth like he’s about to lend over a secret. “They’re definitely real,” he says, eyes flickering over the people passing by, as though they can hear him over all this noise. “I’m ninety-eight percent sure they are.”

“What’s up with the other two percent?” Tobio asks.

Hinata shrugs. “You know how there are always videos online that debunk ghostly sightings and stuff? The ones that are always saying that they have _scientific proof_ to prove it isn’t real? Sometimes they can be really convincing. I’ll send you one later.”

“Okay,” Tobio says, because he isn’t really sure what else to put out there. “If you think they’re real, then there’s probably half a chance that they actually aren’t.”

Hinata sputters, and crosses his arms. “You don’t believe me?”

“I didn’t say that,” Tobio is quick to reassure. “You just believe in too many conspiracy theories. Like Yamaguchi.”

“That’s because they’re interesting!” Hinata argues back.

But before either of them can get another word out, an announcement calls overhead and their train rolls in before them. The doors open, and they wait for people to step out before heading in themselves. There’s not a lot of people, so most of the seats are empty, and Hinata picks one by the door, backlit by the window to let the sun turn into a new shade of gold. Tobio follows suit, taking the spot next to him and placing his paper bag on the ground between his legs.

“Anyway,” Hinata says, swinging his legs. “Some of them are pretty cool. Some of them are obviously fake that they’re just funny, but they can be really convincing if you find the good ones.”

Tobio nods. “If I ever see a ghost, I’ll tell you.”

He seems to light up. “And I’ll do the same. Deal?”

Tobio doubts that either of them will ever see any, with how volleyball-oriented they are, but he’s seen enough horror movies not to completely disregard the possibility. “Deal,” he agrees.

As the train begins to pick up speed, rattling against the tracks and the howling wind, Hinata digs his phone out of his pocket and a pair of earphones from his bag. He connects them together, and pops one of them into his left ear.

“Want one?” Hinata asks, and it takes Tobio a moment to understand that he’s offering the other earbud. “There’s this one album I’ve been listening to a lot recently.”

He nods, and takes the earbud, placing it into his right ear. An unfamiliar pop song begins to play, with a quick melody and fast beats, and Tobio can kind of see why Hinata likes it. It’s not his usual style, but he can see himself listening to it again.

“Good, right?” Hinata says, smiling, when Tobio starts tapping his foot along to the rhythm. “I’ll play their other songs too!”

And as another song comes on, Tobio realizes that this is probably one of those moments that he won’t easily forget. Even with the simplicity of it—two boys on a train, a little wire connecting them by ear—it won’t go forgotten. Maybe it’s like Hinata said, that he shouldn’t miss out on the small moments. Because things like these, like going to the grocery or earphone-sharing, these small moments are the best kind. They don’t seem like much, but they can mean a whole lot if you let them.

And glancing over at Hinata, his eyes closed as he mouths along to the lyrics, the last of the sun’s golden rays on his skin, Tobio decides that he will let them. He’ll let these small moments count, because in the long run, they’re what he’ll want to remember. Him and his best friend, on the way home from a long day of having fun.

He likes the sound of that.

> From: Hinata
> 
> _GHOSTS ARE REAL????????_
> 
> [ _https://youtu.be/LXhLlWQtdt0_ ](https://youtu.be/LXhLlWQtdt0)
> 
> _tell me what you think!!!!! what if we went ghost-hunting one day :O_

The whistle blows with another point scored, and Shouyou falls back to the ground with a loud yell, punching his fist into the air. He turns around and holds his hands up, running over to Kageyama, where they clap their hands against each other with matching triumphant grins.

The scoreboard reads 13-11 in their second set against Datekou in their favor, and Shouyou’s body thrums with adrenaline, pulsing through his body. He loves this feeling more than anything in the world—the thrill of a match, the high he gets when he’s in the middle of a game with the stakes held high and the cards stacked against them. It’s all about the rush he gets when his palm hits the ball and lands on the other side of the court, when he slams through the blockers and no one reacts in time to receive it. In those moments, when he gets to see the other side of the court, Shouyou truly feels like he’s flying.

“Once more!” Ennoshita exclaims, and Shouyou is thrilled to realize that it’s his turn to serve. Grabbing a ball, he positions himself at the back of the court, letting the experience flood each and every one of his nerves.

The crowd cheers loudly with Saeko leading the taiko drum team, and he can hear his name being cheered, thunderous and overwhelming. Shouyou feels his chest beat with the song of a thousand lifetimes, and he grins. This is why he plays volleyball. This is why he wants to do it for the rest of his life.

He throws the ball up, and jumps up to meet it.

They don’t win.

Instead, the next day finds Shouyou in the gym, his chest heaving as he collapses on the ground. Kageyama falls down next to him, both finally exhausted from running around and yelling out their frustrations. They’ve learned well enough to adapt to loss now, so it wasn’t too much like when they’d done it in their first year, but the bitter sting of defeat still hangs heavy in their chests.

The ceiling looms far over them, and Shouyou tries to focus on the cracks in the white paint, trying to calm his body down as his heartbeat pulses loud enough for him to hear it, his breaths coming out short and sharp. Kageyama is lying upside down inches away, but even with the space, Shouyou can still feel the heat radiating off of him, sweat running down his arms. Of course they’d both found themselves here again—there is not a place more important to the two of them than this high school gym, and the four walls carve a home for a sport that they care about so much that it has become their lifeblood.

He thinks about how much it means to him. How, in the middle of the game, he’d known with simple and unbreakable certainty, that there was nothing more he wanted to do in his life but play volleyball.

Call it him being reckless, naive, that not everyone makes jobs out of the things they’re passionate about, but this is what he wants. He wants to keep playing until he’s old and gray and his legs give way. Even if it’s twenty or thirty years from now, he wants to be able to stand on the court and say, _here, I stood here, I was here._ Maybe it’s not that realistic for other people, but for Shouyou there has never been a future for him without volleyball. It’s impossible to imagine.

He’s not asking for a monument. No one on a battlefield still asks for monuments, not when they’ve been beaten down and built back up, but this is the ground he wants to stand on. He will climb mountains higher and higher, and start all over again when there’s nothing left but the peak. There’s always more to know, more ways to improve, and Shouyou wants to stand on the highest peak and see the world.

“Tomorrow,” Kageyama says, and he breathes out the word with the shape of a promise. He doesn’t say anything else after that, just lets it hang in the air, but Shouyou understands. _Tomorrow, we play. Tomorrow, we practice and we receive and we spike. Tomorrow, we do it all again. Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow._

Shouyou nods, and he places a fist to his chest. It’s an agreement, a guarantee—this is not where it will end, and they’ll pick themselves back up over and over, chasing after paper suns, until they finally reach the horizon and bleed their colors all over it. They will move on, as they always do. This isn’t the first, and it isn’t the last, and perhaps with both of them some dreams won’t ever end.

Instead, they’ll turn it into a reality.

And just like a folk song, this story is passed on, told again and again.

He’s exhausted.

Tobio groans as he takes another step forward, his muscles aching with each movement, his bones heavy in his body. His face is flushed and red, and he thinks his legs are twitching a bit, and he kind of never wants to move again. He’s so incredibly sore, and Tobio already knows that he’s going to pass out the moment he gets home.

Practice was more rough than usual, since Coach Ukai made them play five practice matches in a row, complete with diving drills and jogging laps after each one. It wouldn’t have been so bad, Tobio thinks, if it wasn’t for the summer heat, ever present and hanging hot over their shoulders, weighing them down. He usually has a lot more energy than this, but between all the practices and the exams and the homework, Tobio’s more than ready to sleep for the next thirty years.

Hinata waves his arm sluggishly, and it’s a testament to how terrible all this is if even _he’s_ tired. “After this I’m never moving again.” He stumbles a bit on the cracked pavement before grabbing onto Tobio’s arm to steady himself.

He’s too tired to even fluster at the touch, and even if he did, he’s sure that his exhaustion could easily cover it up. He just grunts in response. “We really shouldn’t have had that race after.”

“Yeah, that was a stupid idea,” Hinata admits, sounding a little in pain. “My legs feel like jelly, Kageyama.”

“It was _your_ idea, dumbass,” Tobio retorts. He looks down at the bike Hinata’s rolling in between them, and thinks to himself that at least he doesn’t have a whole mountain to climb. Then he feels bad about it. He coughs, clearing his throat. “Will you—will you be okay? You still need to go over the mountain pass, don’t you?”

Hinata groans again, tilting his head back. “Ugh, don’t remind me. I’m tired just thinking about it.”

“Don’t fall and die,” Tobio tells him, and Hinata shoves him lightly, but it only makes both of them wince in pain.

“I’m not gonna fall and die,” Hinata says, rolling his eyes. “Have more faith in me, Bakageyama.”

He snorts. His foot accidentally kicks a pebble, and skids down the road. It glints in the pink evening sun, and Tobio kicks it again when they get closer. Hinata takes the next turn, and it rolls over into the grass.

“Oops,” Hinata says with a sheepish smile. “Sorry.”

Tobio just shrugs. They’re getting closer now, and he can already imagine lying down on his soft bed, turning on the fan and relishing in the air. He can’t wait.

“Oh, man, I’m so tired, I can barely—” Hinata says, before he cuts off. Tobio turns to find that he’s left Tobio’s side, running over to the vending machine from Sakanoshita that they’d just passed. “Give me a sec!” Hinata exclaims.

Tobio stands by the other end, tucking his hands into his pocket. He wonders what the hell Hinata is even buying, or how even has the energy to move that much. Tobio’s thirsty, but he’s pretty sure that no matter what food or drink the store has to offer, it isn’t worth the effort to suffer through all that _moving._ He aches at the thought of it.

Then Hinata is jogging back towards him, a grin on his face, and he’s got something in his hand. He holds it out for Tobio to take.

“Here,” he says, and the summer catches on his sunset eyes, turning them golden. “It’s for you.”

Tobio stares. It’s a blue milk box, his favorite kind. “You got me milk?” he says dumbly, and he can’t really believe what’s happening. His heart pulses quick like a drum beat, and a feeling he can’t name washes over him. He feels like he’s at the precipice of something bigger than himself.

“Yeah,” Hinata says casually, shrugging his shoulders, as though it isn’t really a big deal. “You seemed thirsty, and they were out of that kind earlier at school, right?”

Tobio nods. He’d been a little bitter over it, and Hinata had laughed at him about it then, but… “But I thought you were tired?”

Hinata just nods. His eyes flicker with shooting stars in the daylight. “Yeah, so?”

 _You brought me milk,_ Tobio thinks to himself, still a bit stuck in disbelief. _You were tired, but you brought me milk._

And then it’s like everything falls into place.

Because the thing is, Tobio’s never really had time for love. He’s never really cared about it, and he’s never given it much thought. He’s only ever heard whispers of stories that his classmates tell during break times, and he’s seen it happen in movies, but never enough to actually grasp what would happen if it were real. It’s never really occurred to him, that it would ever happen to someone like him, or that it would happen this way. He never expected it at all. He didn’t think he’d have to deal with it, not when he was only ever focused on volleyball.

But here he is now, looking right at Hinata, and thinking, _I’m in love with you._

And maybe it’s too ambitious to call it love when it’s so soon and so sudden, but Tobio knows for _sure_ that there’s something there. He’ll just call it a crush for now, just to give it a name, so that he doesn’t feel like exploding, but it’s like everything’s explained to him all at once. All the feelings in his headspace rearrange, clicking into all the right spots. It’s the answer to why he feels weird every time Hinata stares at him too long, why Hinata touching him sends little tingles down his spine, and why, against all odds, Tobio likes spending time with him more than anyone else. Falling like puzzle pieces, it’s the reason why Hinata smiling at him makes his heart beat lightning fast, or why he looks at Hinata and sees summer. Why, sometimes, Hinata is all Tobio can ever think about.

And now it finally makes sense, how sometimes there’s an agonizing burning in his chest, an incredible warmth in his hands, and his face twitches into something that feels like a smile. Tobio hadn’t been sure what the feeling was. He’d thought that it was just a different, mellowed down type of anger, but maybe… Is that what this is? Is it something softer?

He must’ve fallen in love a long time ago. He just never realized it until now.

Tobio thought he knew his heart, only now to find it out of time, and he had thought that he knew these streets well enough not to trip on his own two feet, or that he’d be prepared for whatever life had to throw at him, but he’s beginning to think he was wrong all along. Maybe he was a little blind all along, because everything seems brand new, and there’s a new path opening right in front of him, bright and wide and beautiful—and standing there right in the center of it is Hinata Shouyou.

“Thanks,” Tobio manages to say. Hinata lights up, and like a flare off the side of the sun, a line of a grin marks across his face.

And it’s with sudden clarity, the sun over his head, that Tobio realizes that even if he had thought he didn’t have time for love, it still found him. He stumbled into it anyway, in love with Miyagi’s golden boy, and he has no idea how to get out of it.

And looking at the smile on Hinata’s face, he’s not even sure if he even wants to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes i do love buzzfeed unsolved a whole lot 
> 
> you can find me on [tumblr!](https://superish.tumblr.com) thank you for reading!! <3


	3. is this love?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY HAIKYUU S4!!!!! lots of tswift references in this one :>
> 
> you can find the playlist [here!!](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0tPRilBHwRfwIygCi2mTI5?si=eyKU_gQkSHqAii0unM0k_w) all chapter titles are based from songs on there :D
> 
> hope you enjoy!!

Tobio’s panicking.

He’s panicking, and it feels a little like drowning, and he can’t quite breathe. He’s frozen in place, and he has no idea if he’ll ever be able to move again.

Hinata laughs again, and his arm presses more into Tobio’s, completely unaware of the predicament he’s put the setter in. He’s focused on the video he’s playing on his phone, about two men yelling about some goat and a dumb bridge. Tobio wishes he could be that unaware too.

But he’s never been all that lucky to begin with.

Instead, he’s hyper-fixating on the points of his skin that are in contact with Hinata’s, causing his stomach to squirm in the best way possible. Their legs are touching, squished together from where they sit on Hinata’s bed, and Hinata’s holding his phone in between them, fingers curling over the gadget. Every time Hinata laughs, his shoulders shake, and Tobio can feel the vibrations ripple through him like an echo of something beautiful.

With Hinata’s attention focused on the video, Tobio takes the opportunity to steal a glance at him. His orange hair is longer now, falling into his face, and it causes something to ache in Tobio’s chest. His fingers twitch with the need to brush them out of Hinata’s eyes, or to trace the freckles that dot his cheeks, to count them and compare them with the stars. It’s like everything’s been intensified now that he’s been made aware of his feelings, and Tobio isn’t all that sure he likes it. He pays a lot more attention to Hinata now, which makes him feel happy and giddy inside, even with the littlest things—like the way his tongue pokes out when he’s trying to concentrate on braiding Natsu’s hair, or how his nose twitches when he’s having a difficult time with math. He likes it even more when Hinata turns to smile at him, even without a proper reason. It’s cute. It’s really, really cute. Hinata is cute.

He feels his cheeks warm and averts his eyes, trying to see what’s happening in the video, but he can barely focus on anything else but Hinata. He wonders what it would be like to hold his hand right now, if his hands feel as soft as they look. Would Hinata let him? He’d held Tobio’s hand back when they were in that pet store, so maybe…?

No, he thinks. Hinata doesn’t see him that way, he’s almost sure of it. Tobio knows that Hinata pays attention to all that love stuff, much more than Tobio ever did before now, but that doesn’t mean he’d like Tobio back. And even if he did, which is unlikely all on its own, wouldn’t he have said something by now? Hinata’s not really good at keeping secrets, and he has a feeling that if Hinata were to ever like someone, he’d let Tobio know. That’s what friends do, right? They tell each other things.

He doesn’t even know what you’re supposed to _do_ when you have a crush. He remembers all Iwaizumi did was make fun of Oikawa and call him dumb, and Oikawa had been absolutely smitten with him in return. Though Tobio’s not sure if anything ever did happen between them, he can’t help but wonder—is that how you’re supposed to express your affection? Tobio’s been doing that even before he knew of his crush. Maybe there should be a guidebook of some sort for this kind of thing. He can’t be the only one who’s clueless.

Hinata laughs again, and warmth spreads all over Tobio at the sound of it—and it’s pathetic, isn’t it? He says something that Tobio doesn’t really understand, probably related to the video he’s supposed to be paying attention to right now, so Tobio just nods along, and hopes Hinata doesn’t see right through him.

God, this is hopeless. _He’s_ hopeless.

But that shouldn’t matter, anyway, because Tobio’s decided that he’s just going to do his best to ignore all of this. He thought about it after he’d fallen asleep on the day he realized that he had a crush, and he came to the conclusion that he isn’t going to do anything about it at all. He’s not going to confess. He’s not even going to talk about it to anyone.

(He’d also realized that this was what Sugawara was talking about all those months ago. Maybe he really _is_ psychic.)

Tobio will keep this all to himself. His feelings will sit right here, in his chest, tucked away, and then one day he’ll die. That’s how it’s going to be.

And it’ll have to stay that way, for both his sake and Hinata’s. For the sake of volleyball. Tobio will be the first to admit that Hinata’s existence had pulled him out of the darkness even when volleyball was slipping away from him, and he’s forever grateful that he has both in his life. Volleyball is his connection to Kazuyo, and Hinata is his partner and best friend. He doesn’t—he’s not even sure if he deserves to have both of those things in his life, but he’ll be damned before he risks losing either of them. He can’t let that happen.

And if having feelings ruins that, then Tobio will learn to settle in his longing. He will be perfectly fine like this. As long as he gets to keep both in his life, then he’ll be fine. He’ll be fine.

(He imagines Hinata looking at him with pity in those sunset eyes of his, watching Tobio sadly. He’d let Tobio down gently, of course, because Hinata is nothing but kind, and he wouldn’t hurt Tobio intentionally. Tobio knows that. He’d tell Tobio that they can just be friends, and they’ll convince themselves that it won’t affect their volleyball, but how is Tobio supposed to play well if everything changes between them? He won’t be able to handle that. So he can’t. He can’t ever let those words slip.)

“Kageyama? You okay?” Hinata says, snapping Tobio out of his thoughts.

He looks at his friend, hoping he doesn’t seem to startled. “Huh? Yeah, yeah—I’m fine.”

“Well, you seemed pretty spaced out by the end, but I guess it was pretty scary! Too bad they didn’t find any ghosts, though. Anyway, the video finished. I was just asking if you wanted to watch another?” Hinata asks him, nudging his shoulder, and the increased contact makes Tobio’s cheeks heat up.

“Uh—yeah. Sure,” he says, quickly glancing away. Hinata hums in agreement, scrolling on his phone for a moment before picking out another video.

Hinata adjusts his position on the bed, and he somehow manages to get even _closer,_ and in all honesty, Tobio thinks that this is all so terribly unfair. Does Hinata know? Is that why he’s doing this? Is this some sort of punishment? Because he swears he hasn’t cheated in any of their races, and he’s never done anything to deserve this agony.

“Oooh, look, they’re investigating an asylum this time!” Hinata says excitedly, and Tobio tries to focus this time. He won’t get anywhere if he doesn’t learn how to fixate on non-Hinata related things, especially if he’s planning to ignore all this. Why couldn’t he just get a crush on someone else? Someone who wasn’t his best friend, who wasn’t his volleyball partner? It just _had_ to be Hinata, didn’t it?

(But in truth, Tobio knows the answer. He’s thought about it before, and really, it was never going to be anyone _but_ Hinata. He doesn’t think he could like anyone else, and no one could fall for Hinata like him. It was always going to be Hinata.)

Trying to ignore their closeness, Tobio trains his eyes on his screen, and steadily keeps his focus on it for the remainder of the video. As he thought, the two ghost hunters don’t really find anything to call solid proof, but by the end of their investigation, Hinata seems pretty convinced that something supernatural was going on behind the scenes. Tobio doesn’t quite believe it.

The screen turns black, and Hinata faces Tobio again. His eyes are doing that weird sparkle-thing again, and there’s a light smile on his lips.

“Guess we better actually do homework now, huh?” he says, and he sounds a little sad, but Tobio doesn’t quite understand why. His smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. However, before he can say anything else, Hinata shifts away, moving over to pick up his bag from the ground, and _oh_ , Tobio thinks, suddenly missing the warmth, oh, this is somehow even _worse_.

He wants to pull Hinata back next to him, just to get them to touch again, gentle and soft. His heart feels like a balloon that’s been popped, and he deflates, trying not to let his disappointment show. His chest aches with a longing he can’t voice out loud, and Tobio tries sternly reminding himself that he doesn’t have a right to ask for anything more, and that the faster he can learn to settle, the better. But it’s difficult, because everything in volleyball has always revolved around _improving_ and _wanting more_ , but this is the one time Tobio needs to learn to just be content. It’s not what he’s used to.

With a quiet sigh, he picks up his own bag and rummages through his belongings, taking out the assignment worksheets. Hinata flops back on the bed to sit across him, spreading out his own things in front of him.

“Okay,” Hinata says, much more cheery that Tobio is about the idea of doing homework. “Which one do you want to do first? Science or Math?”

“Science,” Tobio says. He rolls his pen in his fingers. “Math is just plain hell.”

Hinata laughs softly at that, which makes Tobio’s heart flutter, and the thought of Hinata laughing because of something he said makes him feel all sorts of funny inside. It’s not the first time it’s happened, but it still makes him so happy every time. It’s so stupid.

They work in silence for a couple of minutes, and Tobio mouths out the words he doesn’t really understand, hoping that he’s picking the correct answer. Occasionally, he’ll look over at what Hinata’s doing to see if he’s getting similar results, because at least if he’s wrong, he won’t be making the mistake alone. The simple sound of pens scratching fills the room, as well as papers flipping back and forth. It’s good progress, and he’s a little proud of that.

When he finishes another problem, Tobio allows him to sneak another glance at Hinata. To his surprise, Hinata’s already looking back at him, staring at him with wide eyes and an expression that Tobio’s never really seen before. He’s seen Hinata’s face make a lot of shapes, but this is one he’s never quite encountered before. Tobio flicks his gaze away, cheeks burning at the thought of being caught in the act.

But Hinata doesn’t seem to mind. He keeps staring, and Tobio squirms in his seat, pretending to read the next question. He doesn’t think he’s acting too well, and he rereads the same words over and over.

“Hey,” Hinata says suddenly, breaking the quiet. “Can I borrow your hand?”

Tobio snaps his head up to look at him. “What?”

“Your hand,” Hinata repeats, and he points to Tobio’s left hand, the one that isn’t holding a pen. “Can I borrow it? I won’t hurt you.”

“I’m not—I don’t think you’ll hurt me,” Tobio says, still confused. But because he’s having a harder time saying no to Hinata these days, he stretches his arm out.

Hinata takes him by the rest, his own fingers gentle against Tobio’s own. He traces a line right below Tobio’s thumb. “I was right. You do have a scar here,” he murmurs softly, and Tobio blinks in surprise.

“Yeah,” he says. “I accidentally cut myself while I was cutting vegetables.”

“You need to take care of them,” Hinata says. “They’re important.”

“I know,” Tobio says, because he _does,_ and surely Hinata knows that by now. He was thankful that it was just a little cut. He doesn’t know what he would’ve done if he’d gotten a bigger injury. But Hinata’s words seem to be less of a warning and more of a gentle reminder, and Tobio’s a little taken aback by how much Hinata seems to care about him. But, he thinks, why wouldn’t he, when Tobio is his setter, and getting injured would only harm the team? That’s probably all there is to it.

“Can I draw something?” Hinata asks Tobio, picking his pen back up. “It’ll wash off later.”

“Uh, sure,” he says, quite stupidly, because it’s really becoming a problem, how he can’t say no to Hinata, a second strike. “Why?”

Hinata just smiles. “To make it better.” With his free hand, he blocks Tobio’s view of what he’s doing, and Tobio tries not to twitch when he feels the pen against his skin. It’s a little ticklish. After a few moments, Hinata pulls back, a satisfied smile on his lips, like a child showing off his artwork. Tobio figures it might as well be like that. “Done! Your arm, good sir,” he says goofily with a little bow, grinning.

Tobio snorts. He pulls his hand back to see what Hinata drew. There are stars around his scar, small and inked in black and a little blotched in some parts. Like a little kid had drawn it, doodling for an art project. Most of Tobio’s confused, and a little part of him is hopelessly endeared.

“People used to use the stars to find their way home,” Hinata says softly, and his finger presses on Tobio’s skin, mapping out his own drawing. “I figured that this could help you, in case you ever get lost.”

Tobio doesn’t say that he doesn’t think he’d get lost on the way home, and he doesn’t say that it’ll probably wash off when he takes a shower later. He doesn’t say that what Hinata said doesn’t make sense, because those aren’t real stars anyway, and they’re far from accurate. He doesn’t say that it’s weird and confusing and really doesn’t mean anything.

Because it does. Because it’s Hinata.

Because if back then, people had the stars to help them find home, then Kageyama Tobio has Hinata Shouyou. Counting Hinata’s freckles, Tobio’s never once lost his place. He’s like a lighthouse in this ocean he’s drowning in. A beacon in the night. He doesn’t need any of the stars, not when his whole world is mapped out right before him without Hinata even knowing it.

“Thanks,” Tobio says, and the smile that Hinata returns with him is so beautiful and genuine that Tobio feels an ache in the chest all the same. He feels that great longing in his chest, the one that wishes he was able to put his arms around Hinata and hold him, pull him close and never let go. He wants and he wants and he wants, but he knows he will never be able to have it.

So Tobio just smiles, picks his own back up, and draws stars on Hinata’s arm in return, right below his wrist, and just hopes that Hinata can hear the words that are trapped inside his chest. It aches with a song that only he can understand, and prays that Hinata is listening. _Let me care for you,_ he wants to say. _Just like you’ve cared for me._

Hinata beams up at him when Tobio’s finishes, bright and resolute and toothy, holding up his arm to match Tobio’s, the stars like battleworn tattoos of triumph. Once that’s all done, something heavy settles back into his chest—no longer those quick, fluttering feelings, but something a lot more sad, a lot more painful. Something that yearns and yearns with disregard for logic. With a weak smile, Tobio tells him that they ought to get back to work, and Hinata hums in agreement. They settle back into their positions, back to pens on paper, and Tobio is left with his thoughts to deal with.

Tobio thinks of the summer boy before him, at all the things he wants but cannot have, a future that does not entail what he longs for. Times are hard for dreamers, but this is nothing more than a senseless wish, and Tobio’s better off letting it go. Within him, he carries a skin that he calls home, holds a heart that wants to call quits but can’t return, and a pair of lungs that aren’t used to breathing when he’s alone. The lighthouse flickers, once twice, and Tobio fears that it’ll go out.

But he’ll get used to it. He has to. He doesn’t have another choice.

Tobio knows how this story ends.

One day, Yamaguchi pulls Shouyou outside the club room, looking a little frantic, and says, “Okay, so you know how I have a crush on Tsukki?”

Which, one, Shouyou did not know _for sure_ actually, but he had thought of it once and dismissed it, and two, he’s a little confused as to why Yamaguchi is telling him this now in the first place. Suddenly, he understands exactly what Yachi felt when he told her about Kageyama, and feels bad about how sudden it must’ve been. Almost like an ambush, except about feelings.

“Oh,” Shouyou says, trying to be quiet even when there’s no one else there with them. It makes a lot of sense to him that Yamaguchi likes Tsukishima. He has a feeling that Tsukishima likes him back too, but is too chicken to say it. If there’s one thing Shouyou knows for certain about Tsukishima, it’s the way he feels for Yamaguchi. “Yeah, okay. What about it?”

“I think I might’ve—I might’ve accidentally confessed? I mean! I didn’t _actually_ confess, to be honest I was pretty vague about it, but what if he got the hint, you know? What if he _knows?”_ Yamaguchi says quickly, his hands moving around everywhere. Even his hair bounces along with him, and the freckles on his cheeks are a time-lapsed fast-paced constellation. “Oh, god, what if he knows?”

“Would that really be a bad thing?” Shouyou asks him, titling his head a bit in confusion. “Wouldn’t you want him to know, so that two of you can get together?”

Yamaguchi blushes, and it blooms a healthy color on his tan cheeks. “Yes, it would be a bad thing! I mean, I—I guess? Ideally, yes, if he does know, I would like it if we got together, but I don’t know if he likes me _like that_ , you know?”

Shouyou leans against the railing. He hums. It’s a bit like him and Kageyama, he thinks, except he’s almost a hundred percent positive that Kageyama doesn’t like him that way. He told Shouyou that he didn’t like anyone, so that pretty much settled it. He’s not sure if he’d been relieved or disappointed to hear that, really. Relieved, because at least he didn’t have to worry about Kageyama crushing over someone and potentially getting jealous and bitter (because he had no right to do such a thing), and disappointed, because then that meant there wasn’t any hope for Shouyou at all.

And it’s not like Shouyou’s got any plans to do anything about it, either. He’s resigned himself to just take whatever loose threads Kageyama’s willing to offer, and he’ll tie them all up himself, keeping them safe and secure. He’ll stitch them up if he has to, and lay them bare like they hold the secrets to the universe itself. He won’t be selfish this time around, and he won’t ask for any more than what Kageyama’s willing to give. He needs to be patient. And if one day Kageyama has enough, then Shouyou will just have to learn to accept it. That’s all there is to it.

It’s simple, and it’s easy, and it _hurts so much._

And Shouyou hates all of this, because before Kageyama, he never really understood the importance of romance. But here he is now, a teenager in love, a fool with a crush on the most beautiful boy he’s ever seen. And where is he supposed to put all this love? Where is he supposed to keep it? Where does he place it so that Kageyama never has to see it?

He thinks of the way Kageyama smiles at him, like Shouyou’s the best friend he ever had, and knows that he could never do that to Kageyama. He could never ruin this friendship, or hurt Kageyama like that. There’s too much left for him to lose.

“I get it,” Shouyou says, and he stops looking at the sky (darker than Kageyama’s eyes today, tinged in the purple and pink of the evening) to gaze back at Yamaguchi. He wishes things were easier for him and Kageyama, and they didn’t have all these things to worry about. Why do they have to be so complicated? To have the world but to sacrifice something so great in return, how could it possibly be any fair? Why isn’t he allowed to have both?

Would that be too much to ask for? To be loved in return?

To lose volleyball, to lose the good thing they have going, would it be worth the risk? To jump without knowing if there’s something there to break his fall? Shouyou’s always thrived in the unpredictability of his volleyball plays, but it’s for this that he can’t leave anything to chance. If he’s going to do something, he needs to be sure. And he _knows_ that Kageyama doesn’t care for this, and that he’s being stupid, but his hope is almost as stubborn as his pride, and it can’t help but blossom even when he tries shutting it down. Maybe it’ll always be like this, a half of himself hoping, trying to convince his heart to stay, and the other already out the door with no intention of looking back.

Shouyou’s never asked for thoughts so heavy.

“I don’t think I should be giving you advice about this, Yamaguchi,” Shouyou tells him honestly, a hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. “It’s not—I don’t have it figured out either.”

“But that’s _why_ I’m asking you,” Yamaguchi says, and he leans forward on the railing, crossing his arms over it. He hands Shouyou a lopsided smile. “I’m not really sure, but can I ask? It’s Kageyama, isn’t it?”

Shouyou feels his cheeks warm. “Yeah,” he confesses. “Yeah, it’s Kageyama. How’d you know?”

Yamaguchi grins. “You look at him a lot, you know. And from the beginning, it’s always kinda been you two against the world. I’m really not that surprised that this is how your story went. It isn’t that it’s obvious, but I could tell,” he says with a wink. “Too bad Kageyama doesn’t seem to notice.”

“But you think Tsukishima has,” Shouyou says. He doesn’t even know what _he’d_ do if Kageyama started showing signs of interest, but he tries not to dwell on something that might never even happen. “That’s why you’re panicking. But maybe he does think of you that way. You’re the only one he actually likes spending time with.”

The tips of Yamaguchi’s ears turn pink enough to match the sky.

“Yeah, maybe,” he says, eyes cast towards the ground before them. Then he sighs, his shoulders sagging, and says, “If he brings it up, then I guess we’ll talk about. If he doesn’t… Well, if he doesn’t, you know what that means.”

Shouyou doesn’t like hearing Yamaguchi sound so defeated. “Or it could just mean that Tsukishima is a big, ol’ chicken who doesn’t know how to process his emotions,” he quips back, trying to cheer Yamaguchi up. “Maybe he’s just waiting for you to properly do it, just like you’re waiting for him.”

“But if we’re both waiting, then nothing will ever happen,” Yamaguchi says with a frown. He squints down at Shouyou. “Is this your weird way of telling me to confess?”

Shouyou laughs lightly, wiggling his eyebrows. “Maybe, maybe not. You’ll never know!”

Yamaguchi breathes out a laugh as he nudges Shouyou with his arm. Then he lets out a deep breath, letting out invisible words into the air. He looks at Shouyou, and he’s happy to see that there’s a little bit of hope brimming at the edges. “I’ll wait a week,” he says, “to see if he brings it up. If not, then maybe I’ll do it. I just need to be brave enough.”

“You’re plenty brave, Yamaguchi,” Shouyou says, patting him on the back. He thinks of the float serve that he’d mastered, and how long it took him to get where he is now. “I know you’ll find the right words. It’ll be okay.”

Yamaguchi smiles with a small nod of the head. “Thanks, Hinata,” he says, and he pushes himself off of the railing. “I hope you and Kageyama figure it out too. Don’t wait too long.”

Shouyou wishes he could agree and say that he’ll try, but he doesn’t want to lie to Yamaguchi. Instead, he just hums his affirmation as his friend turns to leave. It’s neither a yes or a no, and honestly, Shouyou isn’t really sure what he’s supposed to do. It would be a lot easier to forget about the whole thing if he didn’t spend so much time with Kageyama, but it’s not like he can just stop. Kageyama would notice, and Shouyou likes it far too much to call quits. It’s one of his favorite things to do, regardless of whatever they’re doing together. Even homework is fun when Kageyama’s around.

Shouyou brings up his hand to look at it, right at the spot where Kageyama had drawn stars. It’s long gone now, but he can still imagine how it felt, to have Kageyama’s fingers touching him, careful and precise. Gentle, like Shouyou was precious to him. What would it be like for that to be true? He’d also enjoyed sitting next to Kageyama while watching videos, pressed together, and he wishes he could have more of that. He’d tried to stall by watching as many videos as possible, but he figured it’d get suspicious if he held it off for too long, and they really did need to get started on their homework. He sighs. Wanting will just have to be enough.

For him, it will have to be enough.

Just as he’s about to head into the club room, he spots Kageyama down by the vending machines. The setting sun pools colors generously into his skin and eyes, like he’s made of tiny light fractures, broken apart and seamlessly put back together all at once. It’s like watching the summer take over winter, gentle and easy, like the pull of tides. A tiny frown rests on his face as he stares at the beverage choices, and it’s so cute that Shouyou can’t help but rest his elbow on the railing and sigh, a little lovelorn sound that escapes his mouth and gets swept away by the breeze. Kageyama really is beautiful, he thinks to himself, and one of the best souls to ever walk this earth.

And Shouyou hopes that maybe, maybe it’s like what the poets say. Maybe if he’s lucky, his soul is made of the same stars that were used to make Kageyama’s, and that the universe has bound them together. Maybe he’s half of Kageyama’s soul too, and that they were always destined to meet. Maybe they’re connected by an invisible string, and they were always meant to find each other again and again. And maybe, he thinks, that if the love he holds isn’t enough for this lifetime, maybe it’ll find another to call home, where it will finally be enough. Maybe in another lifetime, he can have this.

(Sometimes, it feels like he’d seen Kageyama in a dream a thousand years ago, and it’s like they were never strangers, not for a single moment.)

“Kageyama!” he yells, thrusting a hand in the air to wave at his best friend. “Kageyama! Up here! Hello!”

Kageyama turns to look up at him, and maybe it’s a trick of the light that his expression turns into something more soft, right on the edge of fondness. He points to the vending machine. “Orange juice?” Kageyama calls back.

“Yeah!” Shouyou says, grinning. That’s his favorite. “Thanks! I’ll meet you down there in a bit!” He rushes into the club room to gather his things, putting his shirt into his bag, and making sure he isn’t forgetting anything else. Then he shuts the door behind him, skipping every other step as he races downstairs.

He meets Kageyama halfway, holding out the juice box for him. Shouyou takes it happily, poking the straw in and sipping. He grins up at Kageyama to express his thanks, and Kageyama seems to get a little flustered by it, which makes something warm settle in his stomach nicely. A blush spreads around Kageyama’s cheeks, and Shouyou feels all giddy inside that he’s the reason behind it.

And maybe it’s a little ridiculous, just how easy it is for Kageyama to make him smile that he can never stop, but it’s better than when it hurts, and Shouyou will take this, and he will care for it. Even if it’s not much, even if it may not be for long, he will care for it. He will take what he can get, and he’ll treasure every bit of it. It’s all he has.

“Hm. It looks…like a bunny?” Kageyama says, squinting up at the sky. He’s leaning back on his arms, the grass blowing gently in the wind beneath him, turning nearly golden on the spots where sunbeams dance. “Or just a weirdly-shaped head.”

“No, no, I think it looks like a bunny,” Shouyou says, and he holds up two fingers, folding and unfolding them to demonstrate. He points to the next cloud over, much bigger than the last. “What’d you think about that one? Kinda looks like a house?”

“I thought it was an octopus,” Kageyama tells him, and Shouyou bursts out laughing. Kageyama just rolls his eyes at him, giving him a pointed look. “You asked, dumbass.”

“I know, I know,” he says, trying to sound apologetic. “But how does that even look like an octopus? They’re supposed to have eight legs!”

“It does!” Kageyama argues, eyebrows furrowing. He shifts closer to Shouyou until their legs are touching, and Shouyou only hopes he can pass off the warmth in his cheeks as a result of the heat instead of anything else. “See, it’s not exactly eight, but it looks like they’re all split apart.”

Shouyou stares long enough at the cloud to begin imagining it. Once he’s satisfied with the picture in his mind, he leans back, and says, “Yeah, okay. That one’s an octopus then.”

As he continues to try to make sense of the clouds, he can hear the faint sound of volleyballs hitting the gym floor. Karasuno is on break right now, but he thinks he’d seen some guys from Nekoma and Fukurodani playing against each other in a friendly match before he left. There’s a heat wave shimmering over right where the gym door is swung open, and he wonders if he can imagine a shape out of that too. It’s too blurry though.

“That next one,” Shouyou says, turning his eyes back to the heavens. “A flower?”

“Or just a circle blob,” Kageyama says unhelpfully. He shrugs, and for a moment his arm brushes against Shouyou’s own. He wants to reach out so badly, even if it’s already hot and the body warmth would only make it worse. Maybe that says something, that he still wants to come closer. “Like a fishball.”

He shakes his head. “No, it’s a flower, see? It curves four times, those could be the petals,” he explains. Then he cocks his head slightly, changing his angle. He snaps his fingers. “It could be a dandelion!”

“A dandelion?”

“You know,” Shouyou says, making a vague gesturing motion with his hand. “A dandelion in the spring. Like the ones you make a wish on and then blow away.”

Kageyama nods, looking back up at the sky. “Make a wish then.”

“But it’s not real,” Shouyou says, raising an eyebrow.

The setter just shrugs, and points upward. “What do you have to lose?”

Shouyou wants to tell him, _everything._ He could lose it all with one wrong step, and yet he still wants so much. But he doesn’t say it, not out loud, because it’s a secret that he can’t let reach daylight in fear that it’ll become real, and instead keeps it tucked in between his ribs.

So he stares up at the blurry cloud above him, and lets his heart speak out a wish that only he can hear. Shouyou has always been selfish. He wishes for volleyball, to be able to take Nationals, and he wishes for the boy next to him, the one with the eyes to match the sky, the one who was always meant for the heavens. He asks for both because he knows he can’t have them, and there’s no harm in trying. It isn’t even real, after all.

“Done,” he breathes out, just as a strong gust of wind blows past and the cloud dispels, changing shape into something else, like a dandelion blown away into the air. Shouyou turns to look at Kageyama, who’s got his eyes closed while he sits on the golden grass, and wonders what words his heart had spoken. What did Kageyama long for? It’s probably volleyball, he knows, because it’s what he wished for too, and they’re at a training camp where all they do is breathe the sport, but he can’t stop his curiosity from trying to poke at the knowledge if there was something else. If not volleyball, what would it be? What else is there that Kageyama wants but cannot have?

In another heartbeat, Kageyama opens his eyes, breaking in like brilliant sapphires, and Shouyou figures that his time is up. Pushing himself up, he gets back on his feet, wiping off the grass that had gotten on his legs.

“I told Kenma that I’d meet him earlier,” Shouyou tells Kageyama, and he holds out his hand. Kageyama frowns, and Shouyou tells himself that he’s imagining the disappointment that flashes in his eyes. “We can go inside. It’s getting pretty hot.”

To his dismay, Kageyama shakes his head. He looks up at Shouyou with an expression that he doesn’t recognize—these days, he’s taken to diligently memorizing each face that Kageyama makes, every crease in his brow, every downturned frown—but he can’t place this one just right. Shouyou puts his hand back down.

“I’ll stay out here for a bit longer,” Kageyama tells him. “I think I’ll watch the clouds a little more.”

Shouyou puts a hand on his hip. “If you’re sure,” he says, tilting his head a little. “But don’t stay out too long. You get cranky when you get sunburned.”

Kageyama scowls. “I do not!”

He lets out a little laugh. “Yeah, yeah,” he says, amused. “I’ll see you later, Bakageyama.”

“Yeah, dumbass.”

With a smile gracing his lips, Shouyou turns around to head into the gym, stepping into the shade. His heart aches again, like it usually does after he’s with Kageyama, but Shouyou knows it isn’t anything too important. He’s slowly getting used to it, and maybe one day he’ll be able to look at Kageyama and not be filled with longing. He lets the pain take a backseat, and doesn’t think any more of it. And when he spots Kenma, he runs over to the setter, and Shouyou lets himself forget all about it for just a little while.

And if Hinata had looked back, he would’ve found Kageyama staring at the bed of grass that he’d sat on, holding his shape, that same ache echoing within Kageyama’s ribs.

“If we crash, I’m blaming you,” Tobio says, his voice tittering on nervous and unsure, and just the slightest trace of fear. “And if we die, I’m going to kill you.”

“You can’t kill me if we’re already dead,” Hinata says cheekily. He simply pats the seat at the back, swinging his legs to sit down. “And we’re not going to crash! It’ll be fun, I promise!”

Tobio eyes Hinata’s bike warily. It’s new, and Hinata had told him all about it, saying it was _cool_ and _gwahh_ and _Kageyama, let’s go ride it!_ And Tobio, an ever foolish boy, had allowed himself to get roped into another one of Hinata’s shenanigans and reluctantly agreed. There’s a smaller, extra seat behind the main one, and Hinata looks up at him expectantly with an excited grin.

“Come on! I’ll take us all the way to your house!” Hinata exclaims happily, patting the seat behind him once more.

Tobio looks at him hesitantly. It _would_ be much faster to get from Hinata’s house to his own, and it isn’t too dark out that anything bad could potentially happen. The afternoon sun is still bleeding colors through the sky, and Tobio doesn’t really feel like making the trip home all by himself, so maybe Hinata does have a point. He sighs, rubbing his eyes, and then resigns himself to this fate. Well, things could always be worse.

Tobio swings his leg over the seat behind Hinata, and then realizes far too late that it is, indeed, entirely possible for things to get even _worse._

“Um,” Tobio says, a strangled noise at the back of his throat. He feels his cheeks grow hot as his hands hover in front of him. “Where am I supposed to…?”

“Oh!” Hinata says, turning his head to look at Tobio. The pink sky matches the color of the tips of his ears, and a blush blooms on his cheeks like a rose. He’s beautiful, Tobio thinks, even like this. “You can just hold on to me!”

Tobio’s eyes widen. “Dumbass, I can’t—”

“Why not?” Hinata asks innocently, shutting Tobio up. It’s not like he can tell him _why_ doing that makes him embarrassed. That would be even more mortifying. “You’ll fall for sure if you don’t, Kageyama.”

“Shut up,” Tobio mutters. He swallows thickly, his throat suddenly dry, and places his hands on Hinata’s waist. He tries to keep his touch light, only really holding onto the cloth.

Hinata lets out a breathy laugh. “You can hold on a little tighter than that, you know,” he teases, and Tobio feels his blush deepen. “I don’t really mind. Don’t want you to fall off.”

“It’s—it’s fine,” Tobio mumbles, averting his eyes. “I’m not gonna fall off.”

“Okay. If that’s all done with,” Hinata says, and even without being able to see his face, Tobio can imagine the wide grin that’s splitting his face. “Let’s go!”

“Wait—” Tobio tries to say, but his words are cut off when the bike lurches forward, Hinata starting to pedal. It’s unsteady at first, and Tobio hates how unbalanced it makes him feel. Without really meaning to, his hold on Hinata’s waist tightens when they round a corner and meet a few road bumps. He curses under his breath when Hinata turns a little more roughly than he would’ve liked, and he can hear laughing over the wind.

“See? This is fun, isn’t it?” Hinata says, and Tobio’s heart spikes in fear when he turns his head over to look behind him, a wild grin on his face.

“Watch the road, dumbass!” Tobio exclaims, and his grip tightens around Hinata.

The spiker only laughs in return. “Calm down, Kageyama! I’ve biked these roads a million times already!”

“But you’ve never biked them _with_ _me!_ ” he says, scowling when Hinata just lets out another laugh in response. He shuts his eyes as they begin to ride downhill, moving much faster than before. “Oh my god, I’m gonna die. No, I’m already dead.”

“No, you’re not! Hold on, you’ll like this!” Hinata says as they reach the bottom of the hill. He presses on the breaks to ease their acceleration, the wheels rolling over a smoother road. They slow down to a swift cruise, the fields beside them swaying with the breeze as they pass. “Much better now, right? Look!”

Tobio blinks his eyes open, and all the words of complaint he’d been planning to say die on his tongue. The sky is bathed in bright pinks and purple, the orange sun almost like a campfire held in motion, and the green of the fields turns soft and mellow, colors dancing on them as beams of light make their way back home on the horizon.

Hinata tilts his head to look at Tobio, a soft smile rising on his lips. “Sometimes I get so caught up thinking on the ride home that I forget to look at the view,” he says, holding the handle with one hand to use the other to gesture all around them. “It’s pretty, isn’t it?”

And Tobio doesn’t even have his eyes on the view anymore; his attention has been captured by Hinata Shouyou, as it always seems to be, by the firelight glow of his hair like a halo above his head, by the auburn look in his eyes that melt away everything else, the freckles on the bridge of his nose to replace the stars that begin to twinkle in the sky.

“Yeah,” he breathes out. “Yeah, it’s beautiful.”

Hinata turns to his head to glance at Tobio again, and Tobio looks away, feeling his cheeks burn at getting caught. He knows he should stop staring—but how can he look away from Hinata when he looks like the universe itself? How is he supposed to deny the world like that?

Hinata just smiles at him, and hums a melody as they bike along. Tobio immerses himself in the view, feeling much better in the steady pace that they follow, letting this little world of theirs fly by him slowly. It’s peaceful and calming, and he lets himself revel in it a little longer, lets himself pretend that this is more than just a little bike ride between friends, that the boy in front of him is someone he can call his, and that the world is letting them keep this. He lets himself believe it, if not for long, at the very least, please just let them have this.

Then in a surge of bravery, Tobio falls forward, and presses his forehead against Hinata’s back, closing his eyes. He feels Hinata tense, stiffening for just a moment, and Tobio almost takes it all back, fear piercing his heart when he thinks he’s crossed a line. But then Hinata relaxes again, and hums a little louder without saying anything, and Tobio figures that it must be okay. He feels a smile rise to his lips, and tells him to treasure it while he can.

Tobio’s heart sings _love, love, love,_ and he never wants this to end. If he could stay like this forever, it would be just fine by him.

In October, Karasuno wins the ticket to the Spring Interhigh, just as they had the year before, and Shouyou can’t be any happier. Despite his exhaustion, he’s hardly able to sleep that night, his body thrumming with pride and excitement. They’re going to go to Nationals again, and this time, _this time_ , Shouyou will make sure that he’ll be able to stand in court the whole time. He won’t let it be a repeat of last year. They’ll play all the games and take the crown, and Shouyou won’t let anything stop from playing.

He’ll make sure of it.

By the time dawn breaks the morning after, Shouyou’s already stepping outside of his house, toeing in his shoes and heading out for a run. The morning greets him kindly, birds twittering on the electric lines, perched high above and looking down at him with little chirps. The sky is pale blue and yellow, and there’s barely a cloud to be seen. It must be too early for all of them to be awake, Shouyou muses, and he sets off down the road, the grass by the road still wet with dew.

He’s excited to see how far they’ll be able to go this time. The first-years are well-skilled, and Ennoshita’s a good and reliable captain. Tanaka is a good vice captain and an amazing ace, and he can fire the team all up easily. Nishinoya is also as loud and wild as ever, and his receiving skills have only improved even further, something Shouyou didn’t really know was possible. He’s been helping Shouyou practice his receives a lot too, like how to keep his feet light, and how to predict where the ball’s going to go. Shouyou keeps his memories as a ball boy close to his chest, revisiting it often to remember what he’d learned. He also remembers the two-on-two that they’d played, and it gives him an idea about what to do in the future—something he hasn’t quite voiced yet, but he has a feeling that’s the direction he should take.

He still needs to ask Coach Ukai about it. Maybe he has some ideas.

Shouyou needs to be able to do everything. He needs to be capable of more than one thing, and he has a feeling that is the best way he can improve. Maybe it’s a far-fetched idea, but a part of him is already rooted in certainty, and once he’s given a plan, Shouyou knows he’ll do everything to see it through. Whatever it’ll mean, even if he has to leave, he’ll do it. Volleyball always comes first.

Lost in his thoughts, Shouyou finds himself standing at the top of the mountain. From here, he can see the sea of houses that pop out from the ground, walls lining them in separation, low-hanging trees sprouting upwards and soaking in the morning light. Roads intertwine and intersect, but there are barely any cars with how early it is, and everything is bathed in the glow of the dawn. Shouyou tries to memorize each and every part of the scene before him, because even nothing really ever seems to change in this small town, he’ll never be truly sure how long he’ll be able to keep it.

When enough moments have passed and he’s caught his breath, Shouyou continues his run, lightly jogging down the hill. He’s looking straight ahead when he sees something cross his peripherals, and the familiarity blooms warm in his chest.

“Kageyama!” Shouyou yells waving an arm to greet him.

Kageyama pauses, stopping to stand at the foot of the hill as his eyes catch on Shouyou, and it’s a little too far to see, but Shouyou thinks a smile rises to his lips. He picks up the pace, crossing the distance between them like a bridge in a matter of his seconds, and he stops short when he’s close enough.

And now before him is the boy who’s built a home in the in-between moments of Shouyou’s every thought, who lives in the space between each heartbeat, who holds the breath Shouyou keeps in his chest before he exhales. Here is the boy who carries the courage Shouyou needs to open his mouth and say hello; here is the boy who helped Shouyou fly.

“Hey,” Shouyou says, grinning.

“Hi,” Kageyama says back, and it hadn’t been Shouyou’s imagination—Kageyama’s got the slightest smile, like a ghost from yesterday’s success (and maybe from seeing Shouyou too).

“Running?” Shouyou asks, and Kageyama nods. “Can I join you?”

“Yeah,” Kageyama agrees, and Shouyou feels his heart lift.

“I’m guessing you couldn’t sleep either,” he says teasingly, poking his tongue out. They begin to jog the road to school, and it’s familiar that Shouyou barely has to think about where he’s going. He’s gotten lost multiple times before, and sometimes with Kageyama at his side too, so maybe he should be a little wary at least. “I’m so excited! I feel like I’m going to burst, you know?”

Kageyama snorts, but Shouyou knows that he feels the same way. He wouldn’t be here now if he didn’t. “We have three months,” Kageyama says, his words coming out in short breaths as they pick up the pace. Shouyou’s already got a feeling this is going to end in a race. It usually does, when it’s the two of them. “We need to get better if we want to go further.”

“I know,” Shouyou says, nodding. His feet pick up the pace, and Kageyama is quick to follow suit, like it’s not even a big deal. He accidentally kicks at a rock, and it slides out of the road. “Will you toss to me?” he asks in between breaths, looking up at the setter.

Kageyama raises his eyebrow. “Obviously,” he says, and the glint in his eyes ignites a fire inside Shouyou, like it’s something that will stay with them forever—because once Kageyama had told him that he only tosses to those he thinks will help him win, and for him to say that, it means that Shouyou’s proven himself enough times to continue to stand by him. They’ve changed a lot since then, though, and Shouyou knows that Kageyama’s different from that kid at the start of their first year. They both are. Now they’re partners and rivals and friends all at once, and Shouyou wouldn’t have it any other way.

Feeling like being a nuisance, Shouyou kicks harder, zooming past Kageyama and running as fast as he can. He hears Kageyama stammer behind him, an enraged string of curses erupting from his mouth, and Shouyou barks out in laughter, feeling his lungs begin to burn as he runs and runs. Kageyama’s close behind him, he can tell with the sound of the footsteps slowly peeking from his back, and that only pushes him to go even faster. This is what he lives for, after all—the adrenaline, the rush of competition.

Shouyou halts to a stop when he reaches the school’s gates, which are closed today. He braces himself on his knees, panting, feeling successful when Kageyama follows behind him only a split-second later.

“Four hundred eighty-three wins for me,” Shouyou declares proudly, and he stands up straight, pounding his fist against his chest. “And four hundred eighty-two losses.”

Kageyama nods. He’s behind on two points, and they’re both aware of it. “What the hell was that anyway? You didn’t give me a warning!”

Hinata just cackles. “That’s the whole point! It was a test, Bakageyama! A test!”

“A test, my ass,” Kageyama says, rolling his eyes. He puts his hands on his hips, tilting his head upwards to exhale deeply. “That was cheating, and you know it.”

“Nope!” he says, grinning. “I won fair and square. You’ve already got longer legs for your advantage!”

“Have you forgotten that you’re abnormally fast?” Kageyama asks him with a raised eyebrow. “I’ll get you next time, you idiot.”

“You can try, Kageyama-kun,” he says, snickering. He pats Kageyama on the back, mostly just because he knows it annoys him. It seems to work well enough, judging by the deepening scowl on his face. He tries to stifle his laughter with the back of his hand.

“Shut up,” Kageyama grumbles, and he tries to swipe at Shouyou, only for him to miss within a fraction of a second.

“Hey, since we’re here,” he says, bouncing on his toes. He’d found some spare change in his jacket pocket earlier, and he takes out the coins, holding them out on his hand. “You wanna stop by Sakanoshita? I’ll buy some pork buns.”

The way Kageyama lights up instantly is almost comical, and Shouyou’s pulse beats like a hummingbird trapped in his chest, fluttering around with no hint of stopping.

“Really?” Kageyama says, and he looks so earnestly surprised that it’s almost painful, and Shouyou only wishes he could make Kageyama happy all the time.

“Yeah!” he says, beginning to head over to the store. It should be open by now, and at least the meat buns will be fresh and hot. They walk over to the store, the bell jingling softly as the door opens, and Coach Ukai is there, half-asleep, yawning as he hands them two pork buns. They’re still warm, and Shouyou gives the other to Kageyama, who murmurs his thanks.

“Hey, Kageyama,” Shouyou says as they exit the store. He has to hold his bun by the edges, since it’s still letting out steam. An idea comes to him then, and he knows it’s probably stupid, but he’s going to do it anyway. He turns to Kageyama, and holds up his pork bun. “Wanna see if I can eat it in one bite?”

Kageyama only looks at him with an amused expression. “It’s hot as hell, you idiot. Are you sure?”

That only makes him even more determined. “Here I go!” he says, and then he puts the pork bun in his mouth. In an instant, his tongue feels like it’s burning, and tears well into his eyes. He shifts from foot to foot, trying to compensate with the heat and shaking his hands, trying to force himself through the heat. This is awful, why did he even think of this, he’s never going to eat again—

Then _Kageyama_ _laughs_ , soft and light, and it’s like Shouyou can’t even feel the heat anymore. He chews quickly, feeling his cheeks burning with something that doesn’t have to do with the pork bun, and swallows it down. When he’s finished, Kageyama’s still got the lightest trace of a smile on his lips, and Shouyou thinks that he’d do it all again a million times over if it meant he could hear Kageyama laugh again.

And sometimes, Shouyou feels like he’s doing everything he can to get Kageyama to laugh at him like this, saying things just to see if he can get a reaction out of him or doing dumb things similar to this one. Working hard at volleyball just to see if Kageyama will be watching when he finally makes it to the top. He pokes and he prods and he teases, trying to find the button that will make Kageyama smile, that gentle one that rises to his lips unknowingly, that one that’s beautiful and breathtaking and tells you that he’s really happy. To hear that laugh, even if it’s at his own expense, no matter how short or quick, as long as he’s nearby enough to catch it and keep it within his chest. And maybe it’s always going to be like that with Kageyama, with that reckless desperation and determination to take what he can to keep his longing at bay. Maybe it will always be this: Shouyou trying everything to get Kageyama Tobio to just _look_ at him for a little while longer.

“Dumbass,” Kageyama says, shaking his head, but Shouyou dares enough to hope that it sounds even _fond,_ the remnants of laughter still echoing in his voice. Then he brings up his own pork bun, breaking it in half, and holds it out for Shouyou to take.

“What? But it’s yours,” Shouyou tells him, confused.

Kageyama shrugs. “You ate yours too fast, you barely even got to taste it. And I don’t mind, you bought it anyway, remember?” He steps closer, taking Shouyou’s hand and making him hold the pork bun.

Shouyou blinks. It doesn’t feel as hot as his cheeks do. “Thanks,” he says, and he rises into a smile. Taking a bite, he realizes that it really does taste good, especially now that it’s cooled off a bit.

“Yeah,” Kageyama says, and as the sun positions itself properly overhead, all Shouyou can think about is how the sky can try to compete for the rest of its existence, but nothing will be more brilliantly blue than the eyes of Kageyama Tobio.

“After I graduate,” Shouyou says, papers splayed out before him as he looks up at Ukai. “I want to try beach practice.”

Ukai blinks, surprised as he leans forward. “Beach? You mean beach volleyball?”

“I’ve thought about it ever since the two-versus-two during the first-year training camp,” he tells the older man, sounding sure. He remembers it all clearly, the way he’d felt, lacking so much.

“In beach volleyball,” Shouyou continues. “You have to protect a big court with just two people.”

_Everything. I need to be able to do everything._

Ukai seems to think it over, before nodding slowly in understanding. “We’ve got time. Let’s look into it.”

Shouyou nods. This is what he wants to do.

Winter comes along to sweep them on their feet, the best time to walk on the city lights, and with the days falling down like dominoes one after another, their deadline for Nationals marches closer, trudging through the snow with no reprieve. It gets even colder in the gym, their saving grace the two functioning heaters, and Shouyou spends most of his time bundled up in a jacket and scarf around his neck.

It hasn’t started snowing quite yet, but the frost is enough to serve as a warning, and the daylight is cut shorter and shorter by nightfall. Shouyou listens as a gust of wind howls against the window, sticking his tongue out as he tries to focus on copying Yachi’s notes. They’re as neat and detailed as ever, and Shouyou knows he would be helplessly lost without her.

“Don’t forget to add this part here,” Yachi instructs, pointing to the words written in her notebook, placed at the side with a bright mark. “Sensei said it would be on the test, so it’s best to remember it.”

“Okay,” Shouyou says, copying it down. Once he’s finished, he slides the notebook over to Kageyama, who takes it with a nod. He looks over what he’s written so far, glancing at the scribbles and slanted letters. He wishes his handwriting could be a little more neat, but it’s fine as long as it’s still readable. At least, he thinks amusedly, it’s not as bad as Kageyama’s. His volleyball log and notebooks are filled with words Shouyou can’t make out.

“Since Nationals are coming up, you probably won’t have as much time to study anymore,” Yachi comments, tapping her pen idly against the table. “But I think you guys will manage if you study a little bit every day. It might help a lot.”

“Thanks a lot, Yachi,” he says with a gentle smile. Stretching out his arms over his head, he glances back out the window. “I’m really excited, though. I can’t wait to get there already.”

“We still have a lot to go,” Kageyama adds on, not looking up from where he’s writing. “And _you_ still need to practice on your serves.”

“I did ten good ones yesterday!” Shouyou argues back. He’s leaning back on his chair, holding onto the table so that he doesn’t completely fall backward. He sticks his tongue out. “And you said you would toss to me but you didn’t!”

Kageyama looks up. “I _did_ toss to you! Multiple times! And then Nishinoya-san called you, and you wanted to work on your receives!”

“Oh,” Shouyou says, blinking. A flush creeps up his neck. “Right. Heh.” He leans forward again, planting his elbows on the table, and stretching out a finger to poke Kageyama at the side. “Toss to me again today?”

Kageyama only rolls his eyes, swatting Shouyou’s hand away. “Even if I said no, you’d bother me until I did, dumbass,” he says.

“Aww, Kageyama-kun, you do know me!” Shouyou says sweetly, and Kageyama only glares at him, scowling as pink glitters his cheekbones. He looks adorable.

“Of course I know you,” Kageyama grumbles, and he gives Shouyou a flat stare. “You’re so simple-minded that it’s not hard to figure you out.”

“See, this is why we’re best friends—wait a minute, _hey!_ ” Shouyou says, narrowing his eyes, and Kageyama snorts, shaking his head. He looks to Yachi, who seems to be watching them with mirth, startling at the sudden attention he gives her. “Yachi! Tell Kageyama I’m not simple-minded! _He’s_ the one who’s simple-minded!”

Yachi only giggles, her hand coming up to cover her mouth. Then she coughs, clearing her throat, and says, “Well, you’re both going to end up very simple-minded if you don’t study. Have you finished copying my notes?”

Both of them turn flustered, and Shouyou picks his pen up again. He turns back to the notebook he’d been copying from, and starts off from where he left off. He’s nearly halfway through the page, though his is a lot messier, and he’ll just have another page to go before he finishes. Yachi’s notes are really easy to understand, especially with all the colors. Shouyou likes them that way.

Just as he finishes the page, a little folded piece of paper lands next to his pen, and Shouyou glances at the direction it had come from. Kageyama’s pointedly looking away, focused on his own work, but the pink of his ears gives him away. With Yachi reading from her own notebook, Shouyou takes the opportunity to unfold the paper and read what it says.

_I’m your best friend?_

Shouyou’s eyes widen at that. Quickly, he takes his pen to reply, writing down his very first thought—as honest as it possibly could be, because this is a serious matter, and it’s important.

_of course you are!!!! how did you not know that?_

He flicks it over to Kageyama, who glances at him warily before opening the note. His cheeks grow a healthy color, and something warm snuggles into the corner of Shouyou’s heart. Kageyama writes something below it, tossing it over gently.

 _Just wasn’t sure,_ it says. Then below, _You’re my best friend too._

And Shouyou feels his own cheeks heat up, and _oh,_ oh this is what Kageyama must’ve felt when he’d heard what Shouyou had said. Because while Shouyou had figured out a long time ago that Kageyama could be/probably was/most definitely is his best friend, it’s different to have those words said back to you. It was probably the same for Kageyama, too, and the validation and acknowledgement sets Shouyou’s heart on fire.

And of course, Shouyou thinks again, of course Kageyama is his best friend. He’s shown Kageyama every version of himself, and Kageyama still stuck around. No one else understands him the way Kageyama does. No one is as in love with volleyball, or who _gets_ him as well as Kageyama does. Kageyama knows when Shouyou is feeling down just by looking at him, and he buys Shouyou meat buns to cheer him up, and he tries to whisper the answer to Shouyou when he gets called on by the teacher. He knows what Hinata’s favorite flavor of juice is, and he always looks out for him, even in that passive, stoic, semi-aggressive way of his. He’s the only one Shouyou can pester without ever worrying if he’s too much, or if he’s coming off too strong, and it’s always been so easy to talk to him. And Shouyou knows that it’s truer than anything else, because sometimes, when someone says something ridiculous or funny, all Kageyama has to do is to look over him with a blank expression, with just the slightest raise of an eyebrow, and Shouyou has to do everything to keep himself from bursting out laughing. And isn’t that all there is to it?

Shouyou shoots Kageyama the widest grin he can muster, and the setter smiles back at him. Then he ducks his head low again to continue his work, letting his heartbeat create a song louder than the rhythm of pens scratching on paper.

After a couple of more minutes, Kageyama closes his notebook, and clears his throat. He packs up his things, and stands, wringing his hands together awkwardly.

“I have to go now,” he says, glancing apologetically at Shouyou. “Ukai-sensei asked me to show Uchida-kun a setting technique during break after I finished here.” He turns to Yachi, smiling a little, and adds, “Thank you for your notes.”

“Of course!” she says cheerily. “I’ll see you later at practice, Kageyama!”

Kageyama looks at Shouyou, his face turning slightly pink. “If you manage ten good serves,” he says, “I’ll toss to you. Deal?”

“Deal!” Shouyou says, grinning.

Both of them watch as Kageyama leaves, opening the door to the classroom and turning the corner until he disappears fully out of sight. Then once Shouyou’s sure Kageyama’s gone, he turns back to Yachi, his cheeks impossibly warm. He can’t stop the smile that spreads widely on his face, and he covers his face with his hands, feeling so giddy that his heart feels like it’s going to burst and escape to chase after Kageyama all on its own.

“Yachi, I have something really important to say,” he says, and his cheeks are starting to hurt, but he can’t stop, and oh my _god_ , Shouyou can’t handle this at all.

“Oh yeah? What is it?” she asks, an amused twinkle in her eye.

“I like him,” Shouyou says, cupping his own cheeks and squishing them, “ _so much.”_

And Yachi laughs at him softly, endearment shining through her expression. “I’m really happy for you, Hinata.”

Shouyou knows that this will probably be all there is for him, and that their friendship won’t go anywhere beyond this, but for now he lets himself take it all in. He’ll let himself wallow in it later, let the longing ache hollow in his bones, but for now, he lets himself breathe in the giddiness in his lungs. Because no matter what, no matter how confusing or complicated it is, he’s happy that it’s Kageyama. He’s happy that Kageyama’s the one he ended up liking because he makes Shouyou happier than anyone else, and there’s no one he’d rather want to have a crush on. He wouldn’t have liked Kageyama if it was all just sadness and aches anyway, and Kageyama’s always made him happiest. It doesn’t always hurt, not when he can forget about all of it, or when Kageyama’s right next to him. This crush makes him really happy too.

“You’re staring again.”

“Shut up,” Tobio says instinctively. He can’t help it—whenever it’s this guy he’s talking to, all his instincts are yelling at him to fight. It’s gotten a lot better over the past few months, and they can tolerate each other on a good day, but that doesn’t give that bastard the right to comment on things like this.

“Oho? Am I not worthy of words, Your Highness?” Tsukishima retorts dryly, crossing his arms. He’s so damn pretentious, Tobio thinks, clenching his fists, with those stupid glasses making him think that he’s _sooo_ smart.

“I wasn’t staring,” Tobio grumbles, trying to make his voice a little lower. He’s already incredibly embarrassed at the idea of getting caught by _Tsukishima_ of all people, and he doesn’t want to make it into a bigger fuss lest it catches even more attention. Even worse—catch _Hinata’s_ attention.

Tsukishima just snorts disbelievingly. “And I’m not grossed out about the two of you making eyes at each other all day. Sure,” he says sarcastically, complete with an eye roll. He really gets on Tobio’s nerves.

“We do not—we’re not _making eyes at each other,”_ he hisses, hating just how much this flusters him. He huffs, scowling, and adds, “Like you and Yamaguchi don’t the damn exact same thing.” He remembers Hinata vaguely mentioning something about those two, but he didn’t even need Hinata to tell him about it for him to notice. He may be an idiot and oblivious at times, but he’s not _that_ dense. A setter’s job is to notice things, and Tobio wouldn’t have gotten this far if he wasn’t good at it.

Tsukishima’s face colors in surprise, the palest pink Tobio’s ever seen. He recovers quickly, averting his eyes by pretending to adjust his glasses, but Tobio knows he got it right.

“What do _you_ know?” Tsukishima says, raising an eyebrow while trying to sound detached. “And why haven’t you told Oblivious Idiot Number Two then? Too scared, hm?”

Tobio glares at him. He really, really wants to punch Tsukishima, but that would probably get him benched, and he can’t have that at all. “I’m not _scared_ ,” Tobio lies through gritted teeth. “I just don’t have any plans to.”

Tsukishima tsks, like he’d seen right through Tobio. He’s not wrong, of course, but Tobio doesn’t want that bastard to think he has the upper hand here. _Obviously_ , Tobio is afraid to confess—fear is what roots him to the spot when the words come oh so close to spilling out of his lips or when Hinata comes too near, and it’s like the bottom drops right from under his feet. He never asked to be a stupid teenager in love with summer, but that’s also the only way he can ever see it going. So he’s stuck like this, and he’ll take it, and carry it on his shoulders for the rest of his days. Because Hinata is worth it, and Tobio will do anything to keep him in his life.

(Sometimes, he catches himself late at night, wide awake and hopelessly wishing that his heart was on Hinata’s mind, if only just for a little while, just to be fair with how Hinata’s always seemed to be on his.)

“Yes, I’m sure that’s the reason,” the blonde says with another eye roll, and Tobio’s sure that his eyes will pop out of their sockets one day, and he’ll completely deserve it.

“And what, you’re any better?” Tobio retorts, trying to unclench his fists. “It’s not like you’ve made any progress with Yamaguchi, is that right? Hypocrite.”

Tsukishima’s golden eyes flash with blatant irritation. He opens his mouth, presumably another quip on that sharp tongue of his, but then he closes it. Sighing, he rubs his temple, like he’s resigned to doing something else. With clear hesitancy in his voice, he winces, looking at Tobio, and says, “I suppose… It appears that we’re in the situation.”

Tobio wants to scoff, but he knows Tsukishima is right, and he seems to be at least attempting civility. Tobio doesn’t want to give Tsukishima another reason to call him an asshole, so he holds back, and settles on the deadliest glare he can.

Tobio grunts. “So you’re afraid too then.” The words are bitter on his tongue, and he can’t believe just who he’s admitting this to. He was never supposed to talk about this to anyone. But then, thinking a little harder on it, perhaps it’s that Tsukishima had resolved to do the same thing—keep it inside until he dies, probably—and it’s some sort of twisted sense of solidarity for them to be discussing it like this.

“I’m not—”

Tobio gives him a pointed look.

Tsukishima sighs, annoyed. “Fine, whatever. So maybe I am. But you better not mention this to anyone, King. _Ever.”_

“Why, embarrassed you’re showing emotion?”

“Shut up,” Tsukishima says. Then, his voice turns a little soft, surprising Tobio to infinite levels, “The reason why you won’t tell Hinata. It’s because things might change, right?”

Hesitantly, Tobio nods. “I can’t let that happen.”

“Well, me neither,” Tsukishima says, and he adjusts his glasses again. Tobio wonders if he does that every time he gets close to being vulnerable. He follows Tsukishima’s gaze, landing on the other side of the gym, where Hinata is trying to receive one of Yamaguchi’s float serves. Hinata doesn’t quite do it right, instead falling to the floor on his butt when the ball goes too far overhead.

Then Tsukishima turns back to him, an eyebrow raised. “Why do you even like him? He’s an idiot.”

“Hey—” Tobio starts to say, but then he realizes that it’s not really an argument he’d win, but he likes to think that Hinata is at least _his_ idiot. He sighs. In all honesty, if it wasn’t for the implied agreement that none of them would breathe a word of this conversation outside of this gym, Tobio wouldn’t answer at all. He just shrugs, quickly glancing over at Hinata, then back at Tsukishima. “I don’t think I could feel the same for another person,” he says honestly. “It’s—it’s different around him. He never lets me be by myself. He makes me laugh. I’m lucky enough that he’s my friend.”

“Lucky?”

Tobio stills and looks away, casting his eyes on the ground. “I know how I can be,” he mumbles.

“Oh,” Tsukishima says. He adjusts his glasses again.

Then Tobio clenches his fists, and looks back up at Tsukishima. “And I know how you can be too.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re an asshole, but Yamaguchi seems to like you anyway. I don’t really get it, but it must mean something for you, right?” Tobio says, and what the hell is this, why is he reassuring _Tsukishima Kei_ about this? What has the world come to?

Tsukishima’s face turns pink, and his fingers fumble when he goes to fix his glasses. “He doesn’t—”

“He does,” Tobio says flatly. “I’m sure he does. Hinata knows it too. He talks to Yamaguchi sometimes.”

“I see,” Tsukishima says, and it sounds strangled more than anything. Clearing his throat, he straightens up, and Tobio secretly finds it hilarious just how embarrassed the blonde is right now. But he hides it well, mostly because Tsukishima knows things about him now, and he’ll be damned before Hinata finds out through him. “Well, then I’m sure you’re the same with Hinata.”

Tobio knows that’s not true. Like he said, he notices things. He likes to think he’d notice if Hinata looked at him that way.

So he just shrugs instead, humming non-committedly. He sneaks another glance at Hinata and Yamaguchi, still trying to receive the float serve. He won’t say it out loud just yet, but he’s impressed by how much Hinata’s improved when receiving. On first glance, it looks almost like a miracle, but Tobio knows the truth: Hinata’s worked tirelessly to get better, and one day everyone will be able to see it.

Coach Ukai blows his whistle, signaling that practice is over, and Tobio snaps his head back to Tsukishima.

“Mention this to anyone,” Tobio says, voice low and serious. “And I’ll kill you.”

“Likewise,” Tsukishima says with a curt nod. With that, they separate, and it’s easy to pretend that the whole conversation never happened. Tobio still feels a little weird inside that it happened in the first place, so he pushes it to the very back of his mind. Maybe by tomorrow, he’ll have forgotten all about it.

Maybe Tsukishima will finally tell Yamaguchi how he feels.

“Kageyama!” Hinata says, running up to Tobio when he sees him approaching. He’s already sweaty, but Tobio knows that that’s never a measure of Hinata’s exhaustion. Most days he never runs out of energy. He’s got a ball tucked under his arm. “Toss to me! We can stay a bit longer!”

Tobio nods. He’s been itching to set to Hinata all day. “Alright,” he says. Glancing out the window, he finds that the sun is already making its way down to the horizon now that it’s winter, but there should be an hour or two of daylight left. “But we have to leave before it gets too dark.” It’d be pretty hard for Hinata to bike all the way home without much light to guide him.

Hinata agrees, running to position himself on the far side of the court. Tobio tries not to stare, shifting his gears back into volleyball. He shakes off whatever’s left from the conversation he had with Tsukishima, and focuses on the ball that’s thrown at him. With quick calculations, almost like instinct by now, Tobio takes the ball and tosses it to where he knows Hinata will be.

(Sometimes, he wonders if this was the way it was always meant to be—like he and Hinata are made from the same soul, always in tune, heartbeats merging until they’re one.)

Just like always, Hinata is there to slam it down. He beams at Tobio when he touches back down, and Tobio promises that he’ll never tire of this feeling, of the thrill he feels whenever Hinata looks at him with the bright smile of his, like he chooses to stand by him instead of anyone else. It makes him happier than anything else, and he’ll never get enough of it.

In the dark, his heart is the loudest call.

Shouyou watches as fractured muted beams filter in through the slanted curtains from a distant streetlight, illuminating the room by just a small margin. His eyes have already adjusted to the dark, and he can make out his surroundings if he stares hard enough. Someone is snoring from the far side of the room, probably Tanaka, and there’s another that hiccups every now and then. Shouyou isn’t really sure who it is.

He really should be asleep by now. They’d made it through the first round of Nationals earlier that day, and his bones are weary but still thrumming with life, with so much to go. He should rest, he knows, because tomorrow might be even harder, and in volleyball you can never fully predict how a game will go. To become complacent is only dangerous, to be too confident, and Shouyou should know better by now just how far a good night’s sleep can get him.

And yet.

Kageyama is sleeping next to him, pale by the subtle hints of moonlight that break through to enhance his skin. Shouyou’s not sure when it started, or when it became a given, exactly, that Kageyama would place his futon next to Shouyou’s own whenever they were in a training camp, or whenever they went on trips like this. But it’s been like this for a while now, and Shouyou still has to get used to it every time.

Kageyama looks different like this, asleep. His face is peaceful and worriless, in a place where no shadows can reach him, no old memories to haunt him. With only silence to distance them, Shouyou can almost count the faint freckles that trace Kageyama’s arms, the few that linger on his cheeks, barely even noticeable in the daylight. He can hear him breathing, the steadiness of his heartbeat’s pace. He looks almost happy, and Shouyou thinks he can even hear Kageyama dreaming.

It’s impossibly fair, Shouyou thinks, that Kageyama still looks beautiful even when he’s asleep, as if there will never be a moment that he isn’t breathtaking in Shouyou’s eyes.

There’s only a few centimeters between them. It wouldn’t be hard at all to bridge that gap, to reach out and brush the hair out of his eyes, to trace the curve of his lashes. It would only take a few seconds to move closer, to take Kageyama’s hand in his own from where it lies palm open, intertwining their fingers together. Shouyou stares at that empty space, the one he could fill so easily but knows he shouldn’t. He could close that gap, and Kageyama would never have to know.

His hand hovers over the air, but the centimeters stretch out like mountains, valleys, and rivers, spreading so far that Shouyou can’t even see the horizon line anymore. His heart in his throat, Shouyou reaches over, and in his mouth is a prayer without the words. He brushes Kageyama’s hair out of his eyes, softly pushing it to the side. Kageyama doesn’t even move an inch, still sleeping, and the shape of his body remains blue. Shouyou retracts his hand back so quickly it’s almost as if the touch had burned him.

He’s having a little trouble breathing like this, with Kageyama so close but untouchable. It’s not fair. It’s not fair, and Shouyou wishes so badly that he didn’t have to keep this distance, that he didn’t have to say his confessions in places where Kageyama couldn’t hear. But there is no place for words left unsaid to go, abandoned before they leave his lips, dying on his tongue, and Shouyou has a graveyard for a rib cage. His chest is full of ghosts, and he knows that they will haunt him for all his days to come, and for nights like these, taunting him by placing the one thing he can never have right in front of him.

Clenching his fist, Shouyou feels his eyes sting with the threat of tears and he squeezes them shut, turning his body the other way so he doesn’t have to face Kageyama, his back to the beautiful moonlit boy. It hurts. It hurts so badly, and Shouyou wishes that he could carve this love inside him and pull it out. He wishes he could just hand it over to Kageyama and be done with it, to leave his heart at the mercy of the sky-eyed boy, but he is so afraid that it will mean nothing to him. He is absolutely terrified, and there’s no good at all, in times like these, when Kageyama can play with Shouyou’s heartstrings like this, create tunes with the most beautiful melodies, only to abandon it halfway through, before it can even mean anything. Nothing hurts a person more than love.

He doesn’t want Kageyama to go far away. If Shouyou told him, he would, and Shouyou doesn’t know what he’d do then.

Sometimes, Shouyou imagines what it would be like to be with Kageyama. He doesn’t think much would change between them—because he and Kageyama wouldn’t be themselves if they didn’t compete and bicker all the time, and Shouyou doesn’t want to lose that. No, he just likes to think that maybe their candle grows warmer, still bright and fiery as ever, of course, but a little more soft around the edges. He imagines that he’ll take Kageyama’s hand while they walk from school, swinging them between them as they go, the setting sun painting them home. He’d pull Kageyama down to pretend to whisper something in his ear, only to really peck him on the cheek and giggle at the flustered look on his face. They’d still share their food with each other and go cloud-watching, but maybe this time they could go out to restaurants, too, just the two of them. Maybe they could give each other chocolate on Valentine’s Day, or they could share kisses after winning a good game. They could hang out in each other’s houses and fall asleep entangled together, and Shouyou could hug Kageyama any time he wanted. Maybe Shouyou could lean close without having to be afraid that Kageyama could hear his quickening heartbeat, and Shouyou wouldn’t have to be embarrassed about getting caught staring. And maybe, maybe Kageyama would look at him back too, all lovelorn and pretty, like Shouyou is the most precious thing he’s ever held, and he doesn’t plan on ever letting go. Sometimes, he imagines that maybe Kageyama would look back at Shouyou, and he’d feel the love too.

Sometimes, Shouyou pictures it soft and he _aches._

He’s not sure when it is that he falls asleep, but the drowsiness catches him half-heartedly, that same longing weighing him down, and perhaps it takes pity on his lovesick soul, because the dreams it brings him are nothing but kind and gentle. Shouyou dreams of blue skies and flying, and tries to patch up the parts of him that had been ripped open.

With one swift movement, Miya Atsumu raises his fist, and the whole crowd goes silent.

All Shouyou can hear is the thundering of his own heartbeat, ringing loudly in his ears, and he lowers himself into the proper stance. This is their second match against Inarizaki, the third round of Spring Interhigh, and Shouyou’s certain that they’re going to have to face the Miya twins’ quick once more, their own weapon sharpened and branded by someone else. But they’ve come prepared, and Shouyou feels liquid fire running through his veins in anticipation. The thrill of a match is laid before him once again, and he won’t let it slip away from him.

Shouyou’s in peak condition too. He knows he is. He’d taken proper care of himself this time around, and he feels completely fine. He’s going to stand on the court and he’s going to stay there. With the adrenaline in his bones, all his senses feel heightened, he can see the court all around him, and all eyes are on them, waiting. The crowd holds its breath as they wait for the game to begin. Hinata Shouyou is here, on this grand stage, and he’ll stay here for as long as he can.

The ball comes up to serve, and the match begins.

As always, this is not the first, and it is not the last time they will lose. And they will pick themselves back up, again and again, as the boys who sprouted from the concrete, the boys who learned to fly.

“—that’s what I told him! But he didn’t listen to me!” Shouyou argues, throwing his hands up in the air. “I _told_ him that wasn’t the answer!”

Yamaguchi grins. “Yeah, that sounds like him.”

“Well, he did seem to be a bit confused when I was tutoring him,” Yachi says as she takes another bite from her ice cream. She frowns. “Maybe I should’ve gone over it within him one more time.”

“It’s not your fault, Yachi,” Shouyou tells her. He takes another bite from the fries he’d bought. “Kageyama doesn’t really listen to anyone when he gets like that. I think the English words must’ve tripped him up somewhere.”

Shouyou’s phone vibrates on the table next to him. He picks it up, expecting a message from Kageyama, but instead it’s one from Izumi and Koji. They’re asking if Shouyou wants to hang out soon, and Shouyou smiles, saying that he’ll be free next weekend. It’s been a while since they’ve all been together, and he can’t wait to tell them about all that’s happened.

“Is that Kageyama? Is he here yet?” Yachi asks him, and she straightens up in her seat, trying to look over at the crowd. The mall’s food court isn’t too busy today, so they should be able to spot him when he arrives, being as tall as he is. When she finds nothing, she turns to Yamaguchi. “What about Tsukishima? Anything yet?”

Yamaguchi checks his phone, but shakes his head. His hair bounces with him, which Shouyou finds a little funny. It drops when Yamaguchi’s sad too, which is pretty cool, like it goes right along with his emotions. “He said he was ten minutes away earlier.”

“When was earlier?” Yachi asks. Her ice cream’s already halfway done.

Yamaguchi looks at his phone again. “Twenty minutes ago.”

“Guess even Tsukishima can be late sometimes,” Shouyou says, eating another one of his fries. “Kageyama probably got lost.”

Yachi had brought up the idea of all five of them going out together last week, and Shouyou and Yamaguchi had both been eager to agree. They don’t really have any plans on what to do, but Shouyou’s excited to see what’ll happen anyway. Now that Nationals is over, they don’t have the same amount of practices as before—not that that’s ever stopped Shouyou from winding up in the gym—and it’s okay to give it a little rest once in a while. He knows that.

Yamaguchi’s phone lights up, and he picks it up, a fry sticking out of his mouth. “It’s Tsukki!” he says, a little muffled. “He says he’s here!” Yamaguchi whirls around, turning his head in every direction. He seems to spot him to the left, waving him over. Shouyou sees the blonde a couple of meters away, walking over to them with his hands tucked into his pockets.

“Tsukishima! You made it!” Shouyou exclaims as the middle blocker takes the seat next to Yamaguchi. He seems mildly disinterested, which Shouyou knows means that he’s okay with being here and is just pretending not to be. Shouyou’s slowly figuring Tsukishima out—he’ll never be as fluent as Yamaguchi is, of course—and once he’s cracked the code, he can’t wait to annoy the hell out of him..

“Here, I ordered you a strawberry milkshake,” Yamaguchi tells him, sliding over the drink. He doesn’t seem to notice the faint pink that paints itself on Tsukishima’s face, but Shouyou does, and he snickers lightly. Tsukishima glares at him.

“Thanks,” Tsukishima mutters, and Shouyou and Yachi exchange knowing grins at the fondness that lay hidden beneath it. Yamaguchi had updated Shouyou and Yachi on him and Tsukishima, and it seems that neither of them have yet to actually confess to each other, still stuck in that pining limbo. Shouyou’s got high hopes for them, though. It’s only a matter of time.

Tsukishima looks around at the three of them, before his eyes finally land on Shouyou, an eyebrow raised at the empty spot next to him. “Where’s the other idiot? Is he not coming?”

Then just like he’d been summoned, Shouyou’s phone pings with a message from Kageyama saying that he’s finally arrived. Shouyou texts him back to tell him that they’re on the left side of the food court, including a long string of happy emojis. He stands up, looking around for a familiar face, and feels his chest warm at the sigh of the black-haired boy.

“Kageyama!” he yells, waving a hand in the air. Kageyama looks up from his phone, spotting Shouyou, and his lips loosen into a smile. In just a couple of moments, he takes the empty seat beside Shouyou. Notice that Kageyama’s a little stiff, Shouyou nudges him on the shoulder and smiles, trying to get him to relax.

“Hey,” Kageyama says simply. He brings out a pork bun to eat, which he must’ve bought on the way there.

“So what do you guys want to do?” Yachi asks excitedly, propping her elbows on the table. Her earrings sway when she moves, little pink stars that hang from her ears. Shouyou reminds himself to ask her where she got them, since they seem like something Natsu would like. “There’s a couple of interesting stores nearby if you guys wanna check them out.”

“I passed by an arcade on my way here,” Yamaguchi offers. Then he snaps his fingers, his eyes lighting up. “Oh, we could go ice skating! There was a sign that said that there was a rink somewhere around here on the first floor.”

“Ice rink! Ice rink! Ice rink!” Shouyou chants, pumping his fists in the air. Yachi joins in with him, and Yamaguchi laughs.

“You guys do know that it’s freezing enough outside as it is, right?” Tsukishima says, sipping at his milkshake. He narrows his eyes at Yamaguchi. “Since when could you ice skate? Do you even _know_ how to?”

“Nope,” Yamaguchi says cheerily. “But is there a first time for everything, isn’t there, Tsukki?”

“I do! I know how!” Shouyou says proudly, pressing a fist to his chest. “My parents used to take me and Natsu a lot when we were younger! I can teach you guys so you don’t fall!”

Kageyama scoffs. “I’m not going to fall.”

“Oh, now that would be _hilarious,”_ Tsukishima says, grinning.

“Why, you piece of—”

Yachi claps her hands, an exasperated smile on her lips. “Okay! We’ll go after we finish eating. Sounds good, everyone?” she says, and they all nod. Yachi’s come a long way from being that shy girl back in their first year, and Shouyou thinks that she’s the best of them, really.

Shouyou turns to his other side to catch Kageyama chewing on something. He narrows his eyes. “Did you take one of my fries?”

Kageyama doesn’t flinch. “No,” he says calmly, like the complete liar he is.

And Shouyou isn’t really sure what it is that comes over him, but he doesn’t call Kageyama out for it. Instead, he just shakes his head, and nudges his fries closer to Kageyama. “Here,” he says, smiling a bit. “You can have some if you want.”

Kageyama looks a little surprised, but then he nods. He takes one of them, and bites it. With the two of them, all the fries are gone within just a few moments, but Shouyou finds that he doesn’t really mind. Maybe he would’ve, had this happened a year ago, but he can’t really find it within him.

Maybe that’s what love is, he thinks. When you give them some of your fries without asking for anything in return.

Shouyou looks at Kageyama, and nods. “Yeah,” he says. Maybe that’s really all there is to it, when you think about it. “Yeah, okay.”

“What?” Kageyama asks, confusion written all over his face. “Yeah what?”

Shouyou just smiles and shakes his head. “Nothing!” he says easily, his heart beating twice as fast now, but he feels calm, too, even if things like that should feel grander than they do right now. He doesn’t think he could call it anything but love, even if he shouldn’t. He pats Kageyama on the back. “Don’t worry about it, Bakageyama.”

Kageyama just squints at him, before leaning back again, looking a little exasperated. “You’re so weird,” he says. He crumples up the bag he’d had for his pork bun, placing it next to Shouyou’s empty plates of fries.

“I know!” he says, and he really does feel happier than he has any right to be, at figuring something like that out. It still hurts sometimes, especially when he’s alone. “But you’re weird too, so it kinda cancels out, you know?”

Kageyama stares. Then after a moment, he slowly says, “That kinda makes sense?”

“Doesn’t it?” Hinata says, smiling up at Kageyama. “I like it.”

“Yeah,” Kageyama says, nodding. “Me, too.”

_I love you._

_Isn’t that the worst thing you’ve ever heard?_

Tobio is not having a good time.

He can barely even stand. Why the hell is ice so slippery? Who even thought walking on ice was a good idea? He’s doing terribly, hands gripping the railing so tightly that his knuckles are turning white, and he can barely get his feet to stay still without struggling. Tobio’s going to kill Yamaguchi for even suggesting this. It’s a stupid idea.

There are only two good things about this, Tobio supposes. The first is that at least he isn’t the only one making a complete fool of himself, and someone else is other than himself is struggling too. The second thing—which is even better than he’d ever imagined—is that it’s Tsukishima. So he can’t make fun of Tobio when he doesn’t know how either.

Which brings Tobio to another thing.

He hears Hinata approach by the laughter that rings loudly, like a familiar song in his chest, but all it does now is annoy him. Tobio groans, already feeling his cheeks heat in embarrassment, and he resigns himself to his fate.

Tobio manages to turn himself enough to glare at Hinata behind him, who’s wearing the most shit-eating grin Tobio’s ever seen.

“How the fuck,” he breathes out, adjusting his grip on the railing to face Hinata properly, “are you doing that?”

Hinata only laughs even more, and he has the audacity to skate a semi-circle around him. “It’s easy!” he says, and Tobio swears that he’s doing it just to be annoying, because this, quite obviously, is _far from easy._ “You just gotta practice!”

“Just gotta practice, right, sure,” Tobio says dryly as he tries to slide one foot in front of the other, moving along at a snail’s pace next to the railing. A young kid overtakes him, and that only makes him feel even worse. “And how am I supposed to do that without falling straight on my ass?”

Hinata only barks out another laugh. If this were any other circumstance, Tobio would be glad to hear Hinata laughing so much, but this is one of the few exceptions. “For one, you could try letting go of the railing?”

His grip around the metal only tightens. “No way.”

But that only seems to encourage Hinata even more. With a nod, he skates in front of Tobio, and holds out one of his hands. Tobio swallows, looking down at it.

“Um,” is all he manages to say.

“Come on, take my hand! I’ll help you!” he says cheerily, and Tobio thinks that Hinata’s enjoying this way too much, like the little gremlin that he is.

Tobio grits his teeth. He’s already embarrassed that he doesn’t know how to ice skate, but to get help from Hinata—having to _hold_ Hinata’s hand… Tobio doesn’t know if he can take it.

“It’ll be fun,” Hinata says, and his teasing smile melts into something more soft and gentle. “I won’t let you fall. Promise.”

Tobio tries not to laugh at the irony. Sighing, he lets his palm close on Hinata’s—somehow, Hinata is _always_ warm, no matter how cold his surroundings are—and shakily tries to balance himself with the new position.

Hinata squeezes his hand gently. “Okay, first, just try putting one foot in front of the other. Kinda like walking.” He skates over to Tobio’s side, and demonstrates. It makes him look like a penguin. A cute penguin. Tobio hates this.

Tobio tries it for himself; he puts his right foot out first, his grip tightening on Hinata’s hand when he nearly loses balance, then his left, and his right again. It becomes a little easier, and they round the first quadrant of the rink. Tobio thinks he spots the others on the opposite end, with Yachi trying to get the other two to follow her instructions.

“See? You’re doing great!” Hinata cheers when Tobio stops for a moment. Then he skates in front of Tobio, still holding his hand. “Next, you should probably try sliding your feet. Make sure you bend your knees so that you don’t lose your balance. Lean forward.”

Tobio does as he instructs. Then with a wobbly leg, he tries sliding his right foot forward, a little choppy, then his left. He repeats the same motion over and over, and they make it a few feet from where they’d began. He only trips twice, and there hasn’t been any embarrassing falls from his end yet. (Though he can’t say the same for Tsukishima, but in all honesty, that guy had it coming to him.)

Just when he thinks he’s got the hang of it, saying, “Here, I think you can let—” Tobio accidentally slides too far and his other foot comes along with the momentum. It causes him to stumble forward, losing his hold on both Hinata and the railing, and Tobio knows he spoke too soon, already bracing himself for the fall—

But then Hinata is quick to catch him, hands on Tobio’s upper arms. Tobio looks up at him, and finds that Hinata’s face is only centimeters away from his. Like this, he can see each freckle on Hinata’s face, and could probably count them if he could. His eyes are a bright sunrise, with flecks of gold in them, how has Tobio never noticed those before, his cheeks tinted pink with the cold.

“Uh,” Hinata says, and it snaps Tobio back to where he is. He scrambles to push himself back up, placing both of his hands back on the railing.

“Sorry,” Tobio mumbles, his cheeks so incredibly hot. He feels like he’s sweating even with the cold atmosphere, and oh god, he should’ve never agreed to this at all. “I, um. I’ll practice here a bit. You can go help Yachi with the other two.”

Hinata looks at him with concern. “Are you sure? I don’t mind.”

Tobio nods, trying not to look at him directly. “Yeah,” he says. “I’ll—I’ll figure it out.”

With one last smile, Hinata nods, and skates away, heading to where the other three are. Tsukishima looks like he’s clinging onto Yamaguchi for dear life, which is hilarious enough to cheer him a little up, and Yachi looks a bit panicked.

Grunting, Tobio focuses back on the task at hand. He holds onto the railing with one hand, and practices on what Hinata had said. Knees bent, Tobio slides one foot in front of the other. He’s tried harder things before—he’s not gonna let some stupid ice stop him. He’ll learn this, he’ll prove it to Hinata, and he’ll hold it over Tsukishima’s head. It’s a solid plan, and Tobio is determined to see it through.

He gets the hang of it eventually, skating smoothly more frequently, and he even manages to do it without holding onto the railing. That part takes him a little longer than he would’ve liked, and he falls on his butt twice (only Yachi sees, thankfully, and because she’s a sweetheart, she only giggles a bit and shoots him an encouraging thumbs up). Tobio does one whole round without the railing at all, and by the time he’s finished, he’s proud of himself.

Looking for the others, he finds Tsukishima and Yamaguchi not too far from him, holding onto each other for balance. Yamaguchi is laughing, and the blonde looks mildly distressed, but they seem to be just fine. He spots Hinata and Yachi skating together, doing little tricks around each other, by the middle of the rink, where there are less people. Gathering his courage, Tobio decides to make his way over there, picking up more and more speed as he goes.

“Kageyama!” Hinata exclaims when he notices Tobio approaching, and Yachi claps her hands to cheer her on.

As he makes his way to them, Tobio decides to go even faster, and it seems to be a success for a while—until he realizes that he doesn’t actually know how to _stop_. Eyes widening, Tobio tries to stop skating, but his feet are still sliding on the ice at high velocity, and at this rate he’s going to bump into Hinata. He tries to give a warning and Hinata seems to realize it, too, but it’s too late for either of them before—

Tobio crashes into Hinata, and they both fall to the ground.

“Oof,” Hinata says.

He grumbles, propping himself up on the ice with his hands. Just as he does that, he realizes just what position he’s in. Both of his hands are stationed on either side of Hinata’s face, their faces just inches apart, and Tobio short-circuits. All his thoughts seem to cease and he freezes in place.

It’s like earlier, but even closer, and Tobio’s heart feels like jumping out of his chest, if only just to present itself to Hinata and tell him about all the love he carries for this boy of summer. Hinata’s eyes are so bright and curious, and Tobio thinks he’s imagining it when Hinata’s eyes flick downward to land on his lips, but it can’t be, it’s not possible, and Tobio could close that gap right now, maybe kiss Hinata, and he might actually die in this very moment—

Someone clears their throat, and there’s a laugh that follows after.

Tobio blinks, scrambling to get up, only to land backwards on his butt.

“Ow,” he says, and the laughter grows even louder. He looks up to find Yamaguchi and Tsukishima, the latter wearing a smirk that Tobio wants to punch right off his face. Yachi’s face is pink, and she looks apologetic. Yamaguchi’s grinning. He faces Hinata—but can’t bring himself to look him directly in the eyes, because what the hell was _that_ —and mumbles out a little, “Sorry.”

Hinata’s cheeks are flushed, and hair a little messy because of how he’d fallen, eyes a little dazed. But then he blinks, whipping his head around, as though he’s only just taking in his surroundings. “Huh? Oh. No, that’s okay. It’s fine.”

A grin spreads on his face, and Tobio wonders if Hinata is aware just how close Tobio had come to kissing him. He probably isn’t.

Hinata manages to get himself back on his feet after two tries of falling back on his butt, laughing at himself, and it makes Tobio smile a little too. Once he’s up, planting his feet so he’s stable, he leans over to hold out his hand.

Tobio looks up at him. The fluorescent lights make it look like there’s a halo over Hinata’s head, so incredibly bright. His mouth goes dry, and all Tobio can do is stare.

“Come on, we can try again,” Hinata says, still on the edge of a laugh.

Tobio manages to get his senses back enough to take Hinata’s hand, wrapping his fingers around warm skin. But when Hinata tries to pull Tobio up, the weight of gravity is far heavier, and it sends both of them back toppling into the ground.

Tobio grumbles, about to apologize again, but then he looks back at Hinata, and the words die right on his lips.

Hinata laughs, his breath coming out like smoke, a little bit of ice in his hair, and he’s so incredibly beautiful that it takes Tobio’s breath away. Hinata looks at him, still grinning, and Tobio thinks, _Oh, this is all yours. This hand is yours, and this heart that beats for you is yours. These lungs breathe your name, and it is yours. It is all yours, so please stay, stay for forever if you’d like, you can live here and I won’t ever mind._

Is this what love is? Is this love?

Even when he knows he shouldn’t, Tobio hopes it’s love. He’s trying really hard to make it love.

“Come on,” Hinata says, and he’s getting back up on his feet again, never one to give up. Of course he doesn’t, it’s just not in his nature. He reaches out a hand again, but Tobio looks at it warily. “Let me try it again.”

“I don’t want to fall again,” Tobio says. “My butt already hurts.”

Hinata breathes out another laugh until it settles well into a smile. “Hey, I promised, remember? Now come on.”

With a resolute nod, Tobio takes his hand again, and this time they both get back on their feet, and Tobio’s grip tightens on Hinata’s hand as he tries to find his footing.

“See?” Hinata says, and he beams up at Tobio. “I told you this would be fun!”

“You fell, like, ten times.”

“That was not ten times!” Hinata says back. “But that’s not the point here!”

“Then what is?” Tobio says, crossing his arms. That turns out to be a mistake, as he feels himself become unbalanced, flinging his arms wide to the side to steady himself.

“Hm,” Hinata says, thinking. A moment later, his eyes light up, and he smiles. “Wanna skate with me?”

“What?”

“Skate with me,” Hinata says, his eyes not once losing their spark. “So I can prove to you that it _is_ fun. You already know how.”

Tobio blinks at him. “I—” he starts to say, about to refuse. But what does he have to lose, anyway? He’s already fallen several times, once even on Hinata, and embarrassed himself terribly. What’s a couple more? “Okay,” he says. Repeating it, this time a little more sure, “Yeah, okay. Let’s skate.”

Hinata grins, and he skates over to Tobio’s side. “Let’s go!”

(In the end, Tobio falls four more times and Hinata thrice, but Hinata does offer his hand out to Tobio ‘for stability’ while they skate, so Tobio considers it a win nonetheless. He also can’t seem to stop smiling after, and Hinata keeps grinning at him, and the sun can’t ever compare.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you can find me on [tumblr!](https://superish.tumblr.com) thank you for reading!! <3


	4. cruel summer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello! i really apologize for the delay, things have been super busy lately ;-; i'll try to put up the next chapter soon, but in the meantime i hope you enjoy!! :D
> 
> [[playlist]](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0tPRilBHwRfwIygCi2mTI5?si=eyKU_gQkSHqAii0unM0k_w)

When the third-years graduate in the spring, it leaves a hole within Shouyou’s heart, even when he’d always known to expect it to happen.

With teary eyes, Shouyou promises Nishinoya that he’ll keep his legacy as the Guardian Deity alive, and spread the word of Rolling Thunder in all its glory. Nishinoya pats him on the back, laughs out loud, the battle cry of Karasuno, and treats Shouyou and all the other underclassmen to ice cream one last time. They promise to reserve the fourth jersey for the next libero, continuing the tradition. Tanaka ruffles Shouyou’s hair and tells him that he’s always believed in Shouyou, that he’d seen it back then years ago, when Daichi had rejected their club applications. He says that he’s looking forward to the things Shouyou will bring as the ace, that Shouyou could never let him down, that he was the best kouhai Tanaka could’ve ever asked for.

Ennoshita smiles through bold words and remarks of praise, saying that he’s never been more proud of the team they’ve become, that he’s honored to have been their captain. _I wouldn’t have traded it for the world,_ he says, and Kinoshita and Narita clap him on the back, and they tell the team that they’ll be counting on them to make it to Nationals again this year. Ennoshita looks at Yamaguchi with pride, passes on his title, and says that he wouldn’t have wanted anyone else to leave it all to. Yamaguchi cries, but he’s smiling too, and Shouyou feels happy and sad at the same time.

And just like that, with their backs to the sun, the five third-years graduate, and just like those before them, they leave pieces of themselves behind for the rest to pick up and keep forever. An end of another era, but the beginning of another, and this time Shouyou’s standing at the front.

They’ll be the seniors now. With Yamaguchi as captain and Kageyama as his second, Shouyou has no doubt that they’ll go far. They’ll make a good team, and they’ll make all their senpai proud. They’re no longer the flightless crows. They’ve soared, and they’ll go even higher this time around. They’ll leave a legacy behind—one that no one will ever forget.

It’s their turn now.

It’s their last chance to get it right.

Everything feels different now.

Well, not everything, but something’s changed in the air, Shouyou can tell. Like something’s hanging over his shoulders, an invisible weighted blanket that ticks like a clock, reminding him that his days are no longer limited. It tells him that one of these days he’ll reach the end of the path, and that he’ll have to choose another. He’ll find himself standing at his own crossroads, a million futures to pick from laid out before him. All it takes is one step.

There’s still so much he has to do.

Volleyball always comes first, and Shouyou already knows that whatever happens, whatever opportunities are presented to him, that this sport is the one he wants to carry with him. He wants to practice beach volleyball, no matter where or how, because he’s sure that it’ll help him. But before that, there’s still Nationals, and this time he’s more determined than ever to win it.

He thinks he gets it now, what it had felt like for his senpai. His last days of high school tricks down beside him, falling like dominoes, and there’s heavy expectations to get it all done. These are the last volleyball games he’s going to be able to play with Karasuno, the number _5_ on his back, carrying the name of the crows. They’ve come so far from where they’d begun, and Shouyou wants to take them all the way.

He knows they can.

He wants to keep playing with them, with these people he’d grown up with by his side. He wants to see just how far they can go, test their skills and prove that they’ve learned and grown and adapted. He wants to show them all, that Karasuno has grown formidable, that they won’t be defeated so easily. He wants to show the world that Hinata Shouyou is here, and that he’s not going down without a fight. He knows that in order for him to keep playing, they need to keep winning. And that’s exactly what he intends to do.

Shouyou’s always got hope as stubborn as his pride, and he’s equipped enough with both to know that all it takes to turn a dream to reality is a little bit of determination and a whole lot of work. There is no effort that goes to waste, not ever, and the more you grow the more you learn. Every loss is bitter but that’s how you learn what to sweeten, what to make more of and what to lessen.

He who climbs a ladder must begin at the bottom.

Shouyou is still learning. He always will be.

Kageyama’s serve goes up in the air, and Shouyou readies himself for it. He lurches forward, and the ball smacks against his arm, going back into the air, and falling close to where the second-year setter stands, hands in the air and ready for a toss—it’s the perfect spot.

“Nice receive!” Yamaguchi calls from behind him.

Shouyou watches as one of the first-year spikers intercepts the ball, aiming well only to be blocked last minute by Tsukishima, who looks smug. Their new libero dives and bumps the ball back up into the air. It’s high enough for a toss by Yamaguchi, and Shouyou’s already running. He jumps, ready from the other end of the court. Getting the timing just right, he aims for the spot missed by the blockers in that split-second, and slams it down. It hits the ground with a loud thud, and Shouyou cheers, ecstatic that they’d won the practice match.

He high-fives Yamaguchi, and pats the other underclassmen, telling them that they did a good job and grinning at them. Turning around, he sticks his tongue out at Kageyama and Tsukishima, just to rub it in their faces.

“That’s seven hundred nineteen wins for me!” Shouyou shouts over the net, placing a hand on his hip. “And seven hundred twenty losses!”

Kageyama wrinkles his nose, displeased at Shouyou catching up to him so quickly. That’s too bad, Shouyou thinks triumphantly, because he’s definitely going to beat Kageyama one day. “Dumbass,” he says, and he ducks under the court to stand on the same side as Shouyou. “You’re definitely going down next time.”

“Oh, yeah?” Shouyou taunts. “I’ll beat you in no time!”

The whistle blows, signaling for a break. Shouyou walks over to the end of the gym, where Yachi is handing out towels and water bottles. She’d also managed to convince two new first-years to become managers, and they hover around her now, looking a little afraid and unsure. But they’ll grow into it eventually, Shouyou knows, just like Yachi had. She seems really excited about it too, and she’d told Shouyou she wanted to help them just like how Shimizu had helped her.

“The first-years are really good, don’t you think?” Shouyou says to Kageyama as he slides down the wall to rest against it. He tips his head back to take gulps from the water bottle, feeling a little more refreshed. When Kageyama doesn’t say anything, Shouyou looks back up at him, only to find him staring at Shouyou. “What? Is there something on me?”

Kageyama’s face turns pink and he looks away, glancing away quickly. Shouyou only raises an eyebrow in confusion.

He nudges his foot against Kageyama’s. “Hey. You didn’t answer my question. Is something wrong?”

Kageyama shakes his head, and the heat must be getting to him, Shouyou thinks, because his face is all red. “Nothing,” he says softly. Clearing his throat, he glances over to where the first-years are all huddled together. “They still need to work on their receives and serves,” Kageyama tells him, a serious expression on his face. “They’re a little like how you were back then.”

“Hey! Are you insulting me?”

Kageyama rolls his eyes. “No, dumbass,” he says flatly. “Well, not exactly.”

He squints up at him. “Then what’s it mean?”

“It means,” Kageyama says, and he squats down to level with Shouyou on the ground, propping a knee up and resting his arm over it. “That they’ll learn eventually. They’ll grow and get it right. Just like you did.”

“Oh,” Shouyou says, surprised. Of course he knows that Kageyama’s always honest, but he didn’t really expect him to say that. He feels a blush spread on his cheeks. “Oh. Uh—thanks, I guess.”

Kageyama gives him a look. “It’s not like I always insult you. I say nice things sometimes.”

Shouyou scoffs. “Oh, yeah? Like what?”

Kageyama pauses, staring straight at Shouyou while he tries to come up with what to say. Then, finally, after a couple of moments, he says, “Your hair.”

His hand goes up to touch a lock, almost defensively. “What about it?”

“It’s…orange,” Kageyama says simply.

“That’s not nice. That’s a fact,” Shouyou says.

“No, I mean, it’s—it’s bright,” he explains, eyes flicking away as pink blooms on his cheeks. “Really bright. Oranger than the sun.”

“Oh,” Shouyou says, and he feels his heart flutter, even if it’s not a big deal in the first place. “Wait. Is _oranger_ even a word?”

Kageyama shrugs. “I don’t know. But that’s what it is.” He fiddles with his water bottle, twisting it around in his hands. Shouyou knows Kageyama tends to move his hands a lot when he’s nervous, but that doesn’t happen all that often. “It’s…it’s pretty. Um, sometimes. Like when you’re under the sun.”

“Oh.” Shouyou feels like a broken record. He feels his pulse skip steps, like it’s falling down a staircase without being able to see where he’s going. Then he smiles, toothy and genuine. “Thank you.”

Kageyama’s blush only seems to deepen, and Shouyou thinks it’s absolutely _adorable._ “Yeah, yeah,” he mutters, and Shouyou can’t keep the smile off his face at all.

“Aw, Kageyama-kun, you do like me after all,” Shouyou sing-songs, pitching his voice higher just to annoy Kageyama. It seems to work well, as Kageyama rolls his eyes. “I knew you cared about me!”

“Dumbass,” Kageyama breathes out, scoffing, and Shouyou just beams as the tips of his ears become even redder. “This is stupid.”

“You should say nice things more often, Kageyama,” Shouyou says, looking up at him. He tilts his head, resting his cheek on his knee.

“Sure,” the setter says dryly. He picks at his shoe laces, redoing them. “And then you’d just make fun of me.”

“No, I wouldn’t!” Shouyou argues. He knows that Kageyama means a whole lot more when he says things are just _okay_ or _fine,_ but to hear him actually say words greater than those… Wouldn’t that be something else, something wonderful? “Here, I’ll say something nice about you too.” Shouyou doesn’t have to think too hard about it. Taking a deep breath, he says, “I think your eyes are really pretty.”

In an instant, Kageyama flushes again, looking shocked. Then he looks at Shouyou disbelievingly, the crease between his eyebrows folding inwards. “You’re just saying that, aren’t you,” he says, and it’s not really a question. “You don’t really mean it.”

His words surprise Shouyou. Does Kageyama not think he’s telling the truth? But even if he doesn’t, isn’t he aware of just how beautiful he can be? Doesn’t he know about all the girls who gush about him in the hallways and in class? That they’re all just trying to get Kageyama to look at them, just like Shouyou does? Isn’t he aware of how breathtaking it is when the daylight pours into his eyes, turning them blue-gold like it’s so simple?

“It’s true!” Shouyou exclaims. “You’re—you’re the only person I know with blue eyes, and—and they look really good! They look like the sky sometimes, and I know that sounds a little stupid, but sometimes they reflect the light, and it looks like there’s a storm in them, and it’s _really_ pretty—” Shouyou realizes all too late that he’s rambling a bit, and that he’s probably said too much already. He brings up a hand to rub the back of his neck, feeling hot. “Well, what I mean is—your eyes. They’re nice, that’s all.”

Kageyama looks a little overwhelmed, his mouth parted slightly, still caught midway in disbelief. Shouyou’s heartbeat roars in his ears, and it feels like three centuries before Kageyama finally responds. “I—I didn’t know,” he says softly. “That’s what you thought of them, or that’s—that’s what they looked like to you.”

He shrugs, heavily embarrassed. “They’re…nice. You’ve got nice eyes,” he says, wincing. This is a mess.

“Thank you,” Kageyama says after a beat, his words a little slow. His face is red, but there’s just the slightest trace of a pleased smile.

“Yeah, well,” Shouyou says, and he picks at the edges of his shoes. “Now you know.”

Kageyama hums. “Yeah.”

Shouyou sneaks another glance at Kageyama. He’s staring up ahead, watching as a ball rolls over without a set destination. He thinks about what Kageyama said about his hair again, and feels giddy inside all over again.

Maybe that’s another thing too, about all of this, and about senior year. Shouyou knows that he and Kageyama’s paths will diverge after this. Kageyama’s always been made for great heights, after all, and he has no doubt that the setter can easily achieve that. He’s still figuring out what he’s going to do, exactly, but it probably won’t be down the same road. So these last few games, they’re his last ones with the team, and his last ones with Kageyama. The days he spends now, slowly, one by one, they count down the time he and Kageyama have left to spend together, side by side, easy and simple. It won’t always be like this. He won’t always have this with him—there will come a point when he won’t see Kageyama’s face every day, or when all he has to do is to reach out and poke him to annoy him. All of this, these games and these conversations and these moments, they will all come to an end one day. It’ll come to an end, and there’ll be no way to get them back.

All he can do now is try to hold on to what he can, and hope that he doesn’t lose the things that are important on the way.

Thunder rumbles loudly overhead like a warning, and the rain crashes down, a constant sound with no sign of stopping soon. It had already been nightfall when the first signal of lightning had struck the ground, a bolt of bright light against the dark sky, and the rain had wasted no time before coming down hard, blurring everything in its wake.

Tobio and Hinata had been outside practicing, the moonlight illuminating them as they went, tossing the volleyball over and over, testing out the different variations of their quicks. He hadn’t noticed just how late it had gotten until droplets of rain started to scatter on his arms, just before it all came crashing down, and they headed back inside in time to just barely miss getting soaking to the bone.

Hinata’s mom had taken one look at them, made a disapproving sound at the back of her mouth, and declared that Tobio should stay the night. He’d tried to argue that he could just take an umbrella, that he’d just be a bother, but the siblings must get their stubborn kindness from somewhere, and she’d won, her smile so familiar in its victory that Tobio’s eyes widened at the sight of it.

“We can have a sleepover!” Hinata had exclaimed, smiling so widely, his eyes shining, and maybe, Tobio thinks, the real problem here lies in the fact that he hasn’t been able to say no to Hinata for a long time.

Which leads him to where he is now, lying on the futon next to Hinata’s bed, the muted sound of rain rhythmically pattering outside the window. Thunder grumbles occasionally, booming, and through the curtains Tobio can still see the flashes of lightning that burn through the sky.

It’s not really surprising for him to be staying over for the night. He’s done it a couple of times before, like when they accidentally practiced too late and got careless with time, and Tobio’s frequented the futon in Hinata’s room enough to know how to set it up with ease. (The first time he had stayed over had escalated quickly into a pillow fight, and they accidentally spilled milk all over the bed.) He’s come over to Hinata’s house so many times the last three years that he knows it almost as well as he knows his own home. His mom even buys extra milk for him now for whenever he comes over, and Natsu still seems to like him, even when he’s yelled at her brother a lot in front of her. She doesn’t seem fazed at all anymore, and Tobio’s relieved that his best friend’s sister doesn’t seem to hate him in the slightest. They even play volleyball together sometimes.

And it’s nice, Tobio thinks. He likes how Hinata’s mom looks after him too sometimes, and he enjoys getting along with Natsu. He likes how Hinata never lets him feel too lonely. It’s really nice.

Feeling a little stiff from where he’s lying on the floor, mostly because he isn’t all that used to sleeping somewhere that isn’t home—it takes him a while to fall asleep when he’s at training camps too—Tobio tries to familiarize himself with the shadows that dance along Hinata’s bedroom walls. Everything always looks different in the dark, and Tobio wonders if this is why people tend to become more vulnerable in it, say words that they normally wouldn’t if they could see, like in the movies. It’s like without sight, the heart bleeds a little more honestly, a little more selfishly, and there’s nothing harsh about the muted edges that the shadows harbor. It holds a sense of security, more truthful than false when the stars are kind, and Tobio imagines letting himself fall into it.

Lightning crackles loudly, and he jumps, the sound catching him by surprise as he shakes himself out of his thoughts.

“Kageyama?” Hinata’s voice calls out, drifting light and hazy in the dark. It’s barely even above a whisper. “Are you still awake?”

He hadn’t been anywhere close to sleeping. “Yeah.”

There’s another round of lightning, and Tobio pictures it splitting the sky in half, cutting the heavens right open until clouds fall out of it. Like a mighty sword held by an unseen god, the rain like a substitute for all the words he can’t manage to say.

The thunder that rumbles is so loud that it shakes the walls, and Tobio swears that he can feel it in his chest. He flinches. It strikes like it’s going to collapse the whole neighborhood on impact, and he’s never imagined a sound could be so loud before, so much heavier and clearer than when his own heartbeat races hard enough to reach his ears.

“Hey, Kageyama?” Hinata says again, and his voice lacks its usual enthusiasm, instead sounding a little too soft. “Is it, uh, I bet it’s kinda lonely down there, huh?”

And see, Tobio knows Hinata well, just as Hinata knows him. He’s learned the different ways words roll off Hinata’s tongue, or the inflections in his voice. He can usually figure out what Hinata’s trying to say before he even needs to speak it, like a strange telepathy. Hinata’s always worn his heart on his sleeve, and it’s never been hard to figure out what he’s feeling. And through his words, through that false sense of teasing, Tobio can tell what Hinata’s really trying to say.

“Is that your way of asking me to come up there with you?”

“Maybe. What would you say if it was?”

Tobio stills. They’ve never shared a bed before. He’s only ever stayed on the futon, and he’s not even sure if there’d be enough space for him up there. Would that be too weird? Is that a normal thing friends do? He doesn’t want to cross any lines. When he thinks about it, being that close to Hinata his heart feels like slamming across his chest, beating so fast and quick that it’ll snap all the lines connecting them. But—he doesn’t want to take advantage of Hinata’s fear, or to have it as an excuse to hide under. He doesn’t want to be selfish.

“I’d say it depends on how scared you are now,” he replies, hoping he sounds casual enough.

Hinata lets out a nervous laugh. “I feel like I’m gonna die. That good enough for you?”

Tobio swallows. Maybe he can just try not to come too close. Maybe that would work, but he isn’t really thinking straight right now. His body feels like it’s on fire. He knows he should say no, because it wouldn’t be fair to Hinata, and Tobio—he doesn’t want to take anything that won’t be willingly given. He won’t.

“Kageyama?” Hinata says again. “You there?”

But maybe it is being given. There’s that same weakness again, his inability to not be able to say no to this boy. Tobio holds his breath, closes his eyes and counts to three, then makes his decision. He exhales, and pushes himself up.

“Move over,” he mumbles, climbing onto the bed. Like he expected, it’s not really big enough for the both of them, and he’s pretty sure that Hinata is squished against the wall. He settles in, going under the covers and making sure to keep a good distance between them. His heart feels like it’s going to burst, and he hopes that the rain is loud enough to cover the wild pace raging in his chest. He doesn’t want Hinata to hear it, even in this silence.

“Thanks,” Hinata says quietly, and Tobio’s glad that it’s dark enough that his blush won’t be seen, only felt by himself. “It’s pretty scary outside, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Tobio agrees. Just as the word leaves his lips, lightning flashes again. There are five beats before the thunder follows, and the walls rumble along with it.

“I don’t think we’ve had a storm this bad in a while,” Hinata says. “Hey, do you think they’ll cancel school tomorrow?”

“Maybe,” he says. That would be a good thing, he thinks, as he imagines that unawnswered pile of homework in his bag. Maybe he and Hinata can do it together. “If it doesn’t let up soon, they’ll probably have to.”

Hinata hums, and his arm brushes against Tobio’s when he goes to adjust the blanket. Even if it was brief, Tobio feels like that moment of contact had burned him, and he tries to lock his arms to himself. His chest aches with a yearning he doesn’t know where to place, and it feels like he’s drowning at sea all over again, lost in the waves of what this all could be if he learned how to swim right.

Tobio wiggles his toes. His feet are cold. He lets out a breath, trying to will his heart into steadying itself. It feels like ice skating all over again, except his heart is clumsy and doesn’t know how to put one foot in front of the other.

“Where do you think lightning comes from?” Hinata asks him a moment later, his voice nearly drowned out by the storm. If it hadn’t been for their closeness, Tobio isn’t sure he would’ve heard him at all. “Tsukishima would probably say some complicated science explanation, but that wouldn’t be any fun.”

He hums, and traces the outline of lightning through the curtains, trying to burn it on the back of his eyelids. “Then what do you think?”

Hinata shifts, lying on his right side to face Tobio. “Maybe somebody’s angry,” he says quietly, “or maybe they’re missing someone.”

“Missing someone?”

“Yeah,” he says. “They’re looking for someone, that’s why they’re striking the ground in all these random places. Like a flare signal, to tell the one who’s lost that they’re not alone anymore. To tell them that they’re looking for them, that they’re here.”

Tobio thinks of his ocean, and the lighthouse of a boy next to him. “Oh,” he says simply. He imagines the desperation they must feel, to be sending down such powerful lightning strikes, to feel so alone that they need to express their emotions by doing this. “So when it’s over, does that mean they’ve found who they’re looking for?”

“Maybe,” Hinata answers back. “Or maybe they just give up.”

“I don’t think they should give up,” Tobio says, the words coming out of him quickly. He bites the inside of his cheek, then adds, hesitant, “It’s not good to be lonely.”

Hinata must sense the honesty of his words, collecting the loose ends of his words and piecing them together, threading the knots with careful fingers. “No,” he says slowly, and Tobio thinks Hinata’s always had a funny way of seeing right through him, but never so close as to read what lies at the center of his heart. “It isn’t.”

“They’ll find who they’re looking for,” Tobio says, and he carries more certainty than he feels. “Or maybe it’ll be the other way around. Maybe they’re the ones waiting to be found.”

Hinata’s quiet for a moment, and the stillness brings a sharpness to the shadows. His voice is small, and Tobio feels like he’s standing on a tightrope, and Hinata is standing on the other end of it. “Do you ever feel like that sometimes? Like you found what you were looking for?”

The ocean stills, calm and clear, and the moon is bright tonight, dancing on the water. And maybe there really is something about the darkness that makes you more honest, Tobio thinks, because he finds himself opening his mouth, but the words that leave sound foreign to him, weird around his own voice. Maybe it’s also because it’s Hinata, and there’s no one else around to hear it.

“Not really,” Tobio says, and he wonders if Hinata will understand, or if he’ll be able to summon enough courage to say the words right, plain and simple, instead of hiding behind a myth they’d just made up. “I feel like—I think I was found, instead.”

There’s another pause. Like he’s taking another step forward, one more closer to Hinata, but Tobio’s not sure if he’ll be able to reach the end.

“Found?”

“I—” Tobio starts to say, and his heart beats worn-out and heavy. “Back then, in junior high, it wasn’t—it wasn’t easy. There were a lot of bad things, but I. There was volleyball. I had volleyball, and when I thought no one was there, there was—”

_There was you._

Tobio shakes his head. The tightrope stretches onward, because even after halfway, there’s always more to go, and never ending lines aren’t his forte. “Sorry,” he mutters. “I don’t—I don’t know.”

“Oh,” Hinata says, and it might be the darkness or the storm that tilts his voice to sound disappointed. “I mean—that’s okay! You don’t—I didn’t—”

“One day, I’ll tell you,” Tobio says quietly, and the air turns sharp against his skin, and his mind bleeds memories—of running with his sister, of learning about eggs and pork curry, of hospital visits and standing in black clothes, when everything had gone wrong, faded by the edges. There’s something lodged in his throat, thick and dry. “But not—not now. Soon.”

Tobio shuts his eyes, not wanting to see the expression on Hinata’s face. He doesn’t want pity, or sadness—or anything, really. Not from Hinata. Not from Hinata, who’d been the one to find him when everything went to hell, and who brought him back to life.

He hears Hinata move under the covers, and his hand finds Tobio’s, still so warm, and he entangles their fingers together, shifting closer until their shoulders are touching. Hinata squeezes his hand three times under the blanket, and Tobio can tell that there’s a long road ahead of them. But he feels the reassurance deep into him like a familiar warmth, and knows that shadows only become sharper in the sun. It’s what happened to him when he had met Hinata.

Hinata doesn’t say anything, but Tobio thinks that’s okay, because neither of them have been too good with words, anyway. They’ve learned to bridge that gap with volleyball, with actions, and it’s always been more than enough.

Tobio listens as Hinata falls asleep, his soft snores echoing as the pouring rain patterns down into something softer, finally slowing down. Maybe it’s falling asleep, too, Tobio thinks, or it’s found what it was looking for. It’s probably a sign that he should head on over and let the dreams come and take him away, but he doesn’t feel tired. His mind’s slowed down into a light jog, but he still feels wide awake, and he knows it won’t be long before his bones are filled with that ache it seems to enjoy revealing itself when he’s alone.

Tobio turns his head over, finding Hinata with his eyes closed, breathing steady. His hand is still clutched in Tobio’s unknowingly, and Tobio figures that he should let go, and Hinata wouldn’t even notice if he did. It had been a gesture of reassurance, nothing more and nothing less, and Tobio’s selfish for still hanging onto it. The guilt rises within him, telling him that he really ought to let go, but it…it wouldn’t be too bad, would it? Would it be so wrong of him to hold on for a little longer? Is it terrible of him to want to have this, just for a little longer?

Tobio sighs. He knows the truth.

Carefully and slowly, he loosens his grip, and begins to shift his fingers away. But then Hinata moves, and Tobio freezes. Hinata holds on even more, clasping their hands together, and Tobio hopes to whatever gods are out there that his palms aren’t as sweaty as he feels they are. With Hinata’s tight grip, Tobio can’t move his hand at all.

So it’s like that, then.

Sneaking a glance over at Hinata, Tobio finds that he’s still fast asleep, his mouth slightly parted open. He looks peaceful, and it’s a little jarring, when he thinks that this is the same boy who holds boundless energy within him, charming and kind, always on the move on zipping around. This is the same boy who holds the sun in his chest, who carries a competitive spirit as fiery as his own, who’s always trying to get Tobio’s attention, without even knowing that Tobio would walk right into the center of his heart with no hesitation. And Tobio’s heart turns soft anyway, because this is a view he doesn’t get to see often, and he wonders what it would be like to reach over, and lean his head against Hinata’s shoulder, trying to get a glimpse of how his heart sings when the world is quiet.

Tobio pictures those Hinata waking, eyes fluttering open and blinking to get the sleep out of his system. He imagines Hinata a little bleary-eyed, turning his head to gaze at Tobio with that overbright look of his, bringing up a hand to softly touch his cheek, so full of fondness and love that Tobio’s heart lurches in his chest at the thought of it. Maybe Hinata would look at him, whisper the words he wants to hear, and he’d look at Tobio as though he’d known all along what he was capable of, even outside of volleyball. Maybe like that, in that dream, in that other life, they could be two pieces of a broken heart.

Tobio thinks of his own heart, beating for this boy and the rush he gets in his veins when Hinata laughs. He thinks about how his heart is wild and tamed all at once when it comes to Hinata Shouyou, wanting to be free but to come home at the same time. He wants, and he wants, and he wants, but he knows that he cannot have it, and he holds back. He thinks about wanting to have Hinata’s arms around him, but knowing he should stay away, and never come too close. He wants to be far away, far where this love won’t touch him. He wants to be with love itself. He wants to leave and never look back. He wants to be with Hinata.

Because Hinata is so beautiful, and Tobio imagines an open field with Hinata standing at the center. And it’s entirely easy for him to see little birds perching themselves on his shoulder, a flower tucked into his hair, Hinata laughing, letting sunbeams rest on his open palms. The light is so bright, and the feeling within Tobio is so strong that it startles him, and sometimes when he closes his eyes all he can see is Hinata.

He’s so bright, but Tobio could never fault him for his shine, for his radiance. He could never, because it’s only because of him that the shadows in his name grow into something better than before, and he never wants to be without the sun. He could never kill this love in a way that matters.

These are distant, dangerous waters, and it’s been a long time since Tobio’s been on a lifeboat. His heart is the only thing that’s keeping him afloat, keeping him breathing, and Tobio really ought to learn how to swim.

And if he bleeds, Hinata would be the last to know.

“Kageyama, stop putting more milk in the cart, we already have enough,” Shouyou says, snatching back the two extra cartons that Kageyama tried to not-so-discreetly slip into the cart behind Shouyou’s back. He puts them back on the shelf.

“You can never have enough,” Kageyama mutters, pouting, and Shouyou secretly finds it adorable. “And it’s _my_ groceries.”

“But you’re picking out the expensive brand, and you won’t have any money for the rest of the stuff you need,” Shouyou tells him. He looks over the list again, scanning for whatever’s left. “It says here that you’re out of soy sauce and vinegar. I think I saw the sign for it earlier.”

He places a hand on the side of the cart to drag it along, and Kageyama pushes it from behind. Shouyou looks back just to make sure they have the _right_ amount of milk and not any extra, feeling satisfied when he sees that it’s all good.

He’d been a little surprised when Kageyama called him up earlier to ask if he wanted to go grocery shopping. He’d explained that his parents were too busy today to do it, and that they were running pretty low on some food. Shouyou put up a little fight just to annoy Kageyama, but he already knew that he would agree. There’s no way he would turn down an opportunity to eat some free samples, and the last time they’d done it back in their first year was pretty fun. And it seemed like Kageyama already knew the answer before he asked, because he’d rung the doorbell to the Hinata household the moment Hinata had agreed, standing right outside and ready to go.

“Here,” Shouyou says, reading the signs hung over their heads. He points to the right aisle, helping Kageyama maneuver the cart. Then he bends down, looking at the wide selection of sauces. “So which one do you usually get?”

Kageyama’s eyes scan over the different bottles. Then he slowly picks one out, and grabs more of the same one, gently placing it on the court. He does the same with vinegar, going for what looks familiar. “Done,” he says just when they’ve gotten enough.

Shouyou grins. He looks back at the list. “Next is toilet paper,” he announces, looking upwards to see if he can see any signs labeled with it. “Guess we’ll have to look around.”

They do eventually find the toilet paper, but it takes them walking into ten different wrong aisles, and Kageyama nearly bumps into a display tower of canned tuna when he gets distracted arguing with Shouyou about which kind of egg was better. Kageyama prefers sunny side up, and Shouyou likes scrambled ones a lot more, but he’s also partial to boiled eggs.

“So this one,” Shouyou says, and he holds up a large pack of toilet paper in his arms. Then, pointing to the one Kageyama’s holding his hands, he says, “Or that one?”

Kageyama looks between the two with confusion. “They don’t look that different to me.”

“Yeah, but this one says,” Shouyou squints to read what’s printed on the plastic, “that it’s fifteen percent softer than other brands, which is good for when you’ve got a cold, but it’s also more expensive.” He reads the words on the one Kageyama’s holding. “It says here that this one’s _the softest tissue you’ll ever feel_ , but it looks like it’s pretty rough. How do we know which one’s telling the truth?”

“Does it really matter?” Kageyama says.

“Of course it does!” Shouyou exclaims. “What if you need to keep blowing your nose but it hurts your skin? _And_ we don’t know if the more expensive one is worth it, considering the price.”

Kageyama shrugs, looking a little tired. “Maybe we can find one that’s in the middle?”

Shouyou nods. He looks over at all the stacks, until he spots a familiar green logo. “Aha!” he says, placing the one he was holding onto Kageyama’s arms, causing the setter to almost drop both. He picks out the one he’d just seen. “Here! This is the one we use at home. It’s pretty soft.”

Kageyama nods, putting the others back on the shelves, taking more of the type that Shouyou had pointed out. He places it on the cart, turning back to Shouyou with an exasperated sigh. “Okay,” he says. “What’s next?”

Shouyou reads out what’s next, and so they go, aisle after aisle, eyes scanning up down left and right for their goal. They bicker over which pack of gummy worms are sweeter, and Shouyou has to convince Kageyama to stop buying too much juice to compensate for his so-called lack of milk. He even learns what shampoo Kageyama uses at one point, and he takes Kageyama’s hand to pull them over to the cereal aisle, pointing at all the ones he’d eaten as a kid, and shoving one of them with the chocolate star-shaped bits into the cart, saying _Kageyama, you have to try this one, it’s so good, it’s like a pop and a bwah in your mouth all at once!_ His mom’s always said that Shouyou gets a little too enthusiastic about grocery shopping.

They move on until they’re nearly done with the list. Somewhere between the chips aisle and the hygiene products, it hits Shouyou all at once how they’d fallen into this trap of domesticity without even noticing, bickering over food to buy and eating food samples. He imagines an impossible time in the distant future, the two of them arguing over laundry and dishes, side by side while cooking and cleaning. And the air of possible familiarity over years of time steals the breath from his lungs and makes him stutter, making him want to chase after something that will never, ever happen. He knows how this road will go, how this story of theirs will end, and it’s not written down like this.

(And bitterly—Shouyou knows that what’s more likely to happen is that Kageyama will find a girl, and she will be everything he’s ever wanted. She won’t be loud or annoying or consistent about messaging him random texts in the middle of night when she can’t fall asleep. She won’t bicker with him over little races and wins and losses, and she’ll do everything right to unlock the key to his heart. She’ll be able to see him every day and take his hand and make him blush; she’ll fall asleep by his side, and she’ll card her fingers through his hair when she wakes up first, and watch the sun rise with him. She’ll be able to do all the things Shouyou will never be able to, and she’ll love him, of course she will, because it’s Kageyama, and she’ll love him, but never as much as Shouyou, not like how he has—)

“—got everything? Oi, Hinata, are you listening?” Kageyama nudges his arm, and Shouyou’s train of thought snaps, making him stumble back into reality.

Feeling his cheeks go warm, he offers a sheepish smile. “Sorry, what were you saying?”

Kageyama rolls his eyes, but it’s a little more fond than it is annoyed, like he’s used to it. “Are we missing anything else on the list?”

Shouyou blinks. He looks down at the paper on his hand, going over the loops of handwriting quickly. “Nope!” he says, grinning. “All done!”

Kageyama nods, a satisfied smile to his face. Then he glances back down at Shouyou, giving him a funny look. “What were you thinking about anyway? You looked all weird.”

“Oh,” Shouyou says, feeling the heat pool to his cheeks again. He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly, and uses his other arm to wave a hand dismissively. “It’s nothing, really. Just thinking about the future.”

Kageyama sends him a curious look as they step closer to the check-out line. He brings out his wallet from his pocket, bringing out his money. “Were they good thoughts?”

Shouyou shrugs. It’s a future he wants but can’t have, but he can’t deny that he’d enjoyed thinking about it, no matter how far-fetched. He wouldn’t long for it as much if it wasn’t. “Yeah,” he says, smiling up at Kageyama weakly. In his eyes, Shouyou imagines the sky again, infinite and limitless, and thinks about how hopelessly tied to the ground he is, still a young bird trying to use his wings.

Kageyama nods, and Shouyou’s relieved that he doesn’t ask any more questions. They buy all the items—Kageyama winces at how much lighter his wallet gets, and Shouyou cackles, sneaking in a candy bar for himself when Kageyama isn’t looking—and they all end up sorted into three bags. Kageyama takes the first two, insisting that he carry them since they’re his stuff (and that it has nothing to do with strength), and Shouyou takes the last one.

“Hey,” Shouyou says as he tries to balance himself on one the edge of the sidewalk, his arms open wide beside him for balance. He’s trying to walk in a straight line, one foot in front of the other while he skips around little rain puddles. “Hey, Kageyama.”

“What?” Kageyama asks, looking over at him. The afternoon sun’s doing that thing again, with the colors bleeding all over his ocean eyes, turning them into something a little like those northern lights you can only see in some countries. Shouyou thinks that maybe one day he’d like to go to Alaska, just to see if they could compare to this little countryside boy wonder.

“Would you rather get chased by ducks the size of elephants,” Shouyou says, sticking his tongue out. He jumps over a little puddle and avoids a crack in the pavement. He thinks there’s a saying related to that, but he doesn’t quite remember, and it’s just better to be safe than sorry. “Or elephants the size of ducks?”

Kageyama tilts his head, mulling it over. “Elephants the size of ducks,” he says after a moment. “I think really big ducks would be kinda scary.”

“Yeah, me, too,” Shouyou says. He tries to focus on his steps instead of the firelight dancing in Kageyama’s eyes, but it’s proving a lot more difficult than he thought. “Hey, you know that stuff that shows up in the sky? The pretty lights in Alaska?”

“What about them?”

Shouyou shrugs. There’s a view of them right before him, but he can’t say that. He’d already said too much about Kageyama’s eyes that one time; saying even more would just be even more embarrassing. “It’d be cool to see them in real life, right? Too bad they don’t show up here.”

Kageyama hums his reply. Shouyou watches as he kicks a pebble, skidding down the road. He keeps at it as they walk along, like it’s a soccer ball towards a non-existent goal. Shouyou tries to imagine what it would be like if he and Kageyama played a different sport. Shouyou’s generally physically skilled, and in all his Physical Education classes he does well in all the games they play. He’d even been a pretty good pitcher when they had to play baseball that one time, and he knows a couple of tennis tricks that he used to help him receive better. How much would things be different if Shouyou had never seen that Little Giant back then on TV? Where would he be now?

It’s a lot difficult to imagine, mostly because Shouyou doesn’t think he could be into anything _but_ volleyball. Maybe he’d have found a different way to get pulled into it, and he’d find his way here all the same. So much of his life changed all because of it, and he thinks about all the people he’s met on the way. All the friends he’s met, the team he’s helped shape and built. Kageyama. Shouyou doesn’t think he could live a life without all those things, without knowing the sting of his hand after a good spike. Life would be a lot less exciting without it. It’s given him so much, and Shouyou doesn’t think he’d be the person he’d be now if it weren’t for volleyball.

No, he’s sure. He wouldn’t be Hinata Shouyou without volleyball. It changed his life.

“I’m glad I play volleyball,” Shouyou says, grinning. He stops walking in the straight line to skip a little closer to Kageyama.

Kageyama looks confused for a moment, probably wondering how Shouyou even got to that conclusion when he’d just been talking about the sky lights. Then he seems to resign himself to it, nodding resolutely, and Shouyou knows, without question, that volleyball’s changed Kageyama’s life too.

(Shouyou also knows, as fundamental as the air his lungs breathe, that Kageyama has changed his life too.

He wonders if he’s changed Kageyama’s.)

They reach Kageyama’s house a little after that, stopping right in front of the door. Shouyou hands over the bag he’d been carrying, and Kageyama slides it onto his wrist. Then, just as he’s about to speak his goodbye, thunder rumbles overhead, ominous, and Shouyou can immediately tell that it’s going to start pouring soon.

“You’re—” Kageyama says, eyes up towards the sky, and the clouds resemble the look on his face, eyebrows furrowed as though he’s thinking hard. Shouyou traces the curve of his mouth, thin like a hairpin. “It’s going to rain soon.”

“Yeah,” Shouyou agrees. He spots his bike from where he’d dropped it off earlier at Kageyama’s house before heading to the store. “I’ll have to bike really fast just in case.”

“You could stay,” Kageyama blurts out, pink blossoming on his cheeks. “You could—for a bit, if you want. So that you don’t get wet.”

“Oh,” Shouyou says, blinking. He’s been to Kageyama’s house a handful of times before, of course, but it’s never been this spontaneous, and— “I can’t.”

Kageyama’s face falls.

“It’s not that I don’t want to!” Shouyou says quickly, holding out his hands. “It’s just—my mom asked me to come home early today, and I promised Natsu I’d help her out with her project.” He looks at Kageyama straight on, and offers a smile. “I really, _really_ wish I could, though. Maybe some other time.”

That seems to brighten up Kageyama’s mood, and he nods understandingly. Thunder roars again before either of them can say anything, and Kageyama’s eyes flash with an idea, just as the tips of his ears flush with a healthy color.

Before Shouyou knows it, Kageyama is setting the bags down and tugging his hoodie off, pulling it over his head. Then to Shouyou’s surprise, Kageyama hands the deep blue fabric to him, shoving into his arms, and pointedly looking away.

“Here,” he mumbles. “You didn’t bring a jacket, so. In case you get caught in the rain.”

Shouyou beams, and he wastes no time in putting it on. As expected, it’s way too big on him, the sleeves hanging off his hands unless he pushes them back, but it’s really comfortable too. And, he’s a little too pleased to find, it smells like Kageyama, which makes him want to hang onto it even more. “Thanks, Kageyama!”

Kageyama even blushes further, and Shouyou’s stomach feels like it’s on its way to becoming a professional trapeze artist—flying and falling with a million somersaults. Even when a cool gust of wind blows past, he still feels incredibly warm.

Shouyou grins, and kicks at his bike stand. Hopping on over the seat, he waves a last goodbye before beginning to pedal away. Kageyama’s cheeks are still red, a mirror of the patches of evening sky still unmarked by the dark clouds. Shouyou commits the sight of it to memory, as cozy as the hoodie that hangs off his shoulders.

Maybe in some way, it’s like Kageyama is still with him as he bikes over the mountain pass, a constant by his side. Shouyou thinks that it’s what he needs now more than ever—just one thing to hold onto, something constant when everything seems to be changing so quickly. Maybe like this, it proves that Kageyama can still be by his side, inseparable even when they’re separated. Maybe that doesn’t have to change. If Shouyou’s lucky, maybe it never will.

From: Hinata

 _i got home before it started raining super hard! it was really lucky!!! thanks for the hoodie!!! i’ll return it on monday!_ (▰˘◡˘▰)

“Nii-chan,” Natsu calls, “can you hand me those ties over there?”

Shouyou looks up from the manga he’s reading, his own face already covered in stickers, stray glitter in his hair. Natsu even braided a few of his locks at the back of his head, since they were getting pretty long. She’s getting pretty good at them, and she does her own when she goes to school. The earrings he’d bought her for her birthday dangle from her ears, glinting in the afternoon sun.

He does what he’s asked, bookmarking his page before closing the volume, reaching over to his left where a pile of colorful hair ties lie. He hands it over to her, and grins when he sees the work she’s done so far on Kageyama. He looks a little ridiculous, stars on his forehead like constellations, glitter on his cheeks. But it’s kinda cute, too, especially since Kageyama’s just letting Natsu do this without complaint, and it warms Shouyou’s heart with a feeling he can’t quite describe. Kageyama will never admit it, but Shouyou knows that he likes Natsu just as much as she’s taken with him. Maybe it’s a younger sibling thing, since he’d mentioned having an older sister before, but it softens his insides up all the same.

Natsu ties up his middle part, making it easier to see his forehead. Shouyou thinks that Kageyama looks a little funny like that, with so much of his head exposed than normal. But it’s a lot pretty, too, because this way, without the fringe to hide under, Kageyama’s eyes are clear and easy to see, bright sapphires glinting in the sun.

“Woah,” Shouyou says, unable to stop himself from letting the word slip from his mouth.

“What?” Kageyama asks, shifting defensively. Natsu tsks, and reprimands him for moving too much.

“Your eyes,” Shouyou says. “You can see them more without your hair blocking it. It’s…it’s nice.”

Kageyama blinks. His hand comes up to touch the tied up part, his fingers rubbing against it. “You—you think so?” he asks disbelievingly, just on the edge of insecure.

Shouyou nods, and feels the heat on his cheeks. “Yeah!” he says, trying to offer a supportive smile.

“See? I’m great at this,” Natsu says proudly, placing her hands on her hips. She places another sticker close to Kageyama’s temple before sitting back on her knees, looking satisfied. “Okay! What do you think, nii-chan?”

Shouyou grins, and shoots her a thumbs up. Sticking a tongue out at Kageyama, he says, “Nine out of ten! It would’ve been perfect if Kageyama-kun didn’t look so scary.”

Kageyama sputters. “This is just how my face looks!”

Shouyou and Natsu both laugh, wearing matching crooked grins. He ruffles his little sister’s hair, and tells her that she did a good job as always. She beams up at him, obviously pleased at the praise, and leaves for the kitchen to go get some snacks.

Shouyou leans against the bed, crossing his feet over each other from where they’re outstretched. Kageyama positions himself next to Shouyou, sitting criss-cross on the floor.

“She’d get along well with my sister,” Kageyama says, his voice soft, and Shouyou marvels in his words, eager to listen. It’s not often Kageyama brings up his family, and Shouyou’s only heard a few stories, never enough to get a full picture. Then he shudders, shaking his shoulders, his expression pinched. “But that’s why they should never meet.”

“Oh, imagine the teasing!” Shouyou says, grinning wickedly. He’d like to be there if that ever happened, if only just to get some more dirt on Kageyama. “But you’re right! Natsu can’t meet her, ‘cause I have to meet her first, obviously!”

Kageyama stares. “Dumbass, you’re still on that?”

“Of course!” he says. “You’ve met Natsu a billion times now, and I wanna meet yours! I wanna hear about what you were like as a baby! Ooooh, do you think she’ll show me some pictures? What did you look like as a baby, huh? Little baby _Tobio-chan—_ ”

“Oh my god,” Kageyama groans, putting his head in his hands. “This is exactly why you can never meet her.”

Shouyou just laughs. He wonders how close Kageyama and his sister are. He’s said that they were _okay_ before, but with such a large age gap, he can’t help but wonder what it was like when they were younger. She comes home to visit sometimes, Kageyama had said, but how often is that?

“Hey.” He nudges Kageyama’s leg with his own. “Your sister… How come she’s never come to watch you play?”

Kageyama seems to still, and Shouyou immediately wants to take back his words. But then his expression shifts from surprised to sour to neutral, and he’s speaking before Shouyou can even think of the right words to say. “She’s busy,” he says, voice small. “She’s tried to before, but things get in the way. She played volleyball too, before.”

Shouyou nods, but he doesn’t know what to say. He picks at the loose threads of his socks, snapping it off before it gets even worse. He wonders if that’ll happen with him and Natsu in the future. If he’ll leave and get too busy to come home, or if he won’t be there enough for her and they’ll grow distant. He doesn’t want that to happen. He doesn’t want to miss seeing her grow up, but he might have to eventually, and Shouyou knows—he _knows_ that his time is running out, and that it won’t be long before anything changes, but as much as he’s excited to see where it all goes, he can’t stop being a little apprehensive. But that’s normal, isn’t it? To be scared of the future? To want things to stay the same for a little longer?

“Kageyama,” Shouyou says quietly. “Does it scare you when you think about the future?”

He seems to mull it over, letting a few heartbeats pass before he opens his mouth to speak. “Not really,” he says, tinged with honesty. And of course, Shouyou thinks. He should’ve known that Kageyama’s got it figured out inside his head. All the scouts at official matches will be watching, and he has no doubt that Kageyama Tobio will be able to catch their attention. “I know what I want to do, but the problem is how I’m going to get there.”

Shouyou doesn’t ask what he wants. He won’t ask, not yet, until he figures out what he’s going to do. Maybe it’s selfish, or greedy, but he thinks it sort of hangs like an unspoken agreement between them too, that they’ll tell each other when they’re both ready. Kageyama must hear it in the silence.

“But sometimes I do worry,” Kageyama adds. His words are loud in the stillness of Hinata’s bedroom, almost untouchable. “I don’t think it’s fear, exactly, but it worries me sometimes, when I think about it too hard. But I’ll figure it out.” He bumps his shoulder against Shouyou’s, and offers a little smile. “And you…you will too.”

“Thanks, Kageyama,” Shouyou says. They stay like that for a while, just looking at each other, as though they are having a secret conversation without any of the words. It feels like the moment lasts forever, and that Shouyou’s got all the time in the world to think about the boy in front of him, every night and every morning, where emptiness seems to stretch on and on and on. He thinks he also sees the future within Kageyama’s eyes, a singular path splitting into two. It’s too far to see if they converge again soon. With a deep breath, Shouyou finally looks away, cutting his imagination short before it runs any wilder. It was a split-second from turning into a staring contest, and while Shouyou’s usually the first to take up a challenge, he doesn’t think it’s appropriate right now.

Natsu comes back into the room then, holding three pieces of onigiri for each of them, and the two boys eagerly take them from her. Natsu ropes Kageyama into a conversation about which flavor of milk he likes best, and Shouyou knows that it’s a trap, because he’d asked Kageyama that once, only to realize that Kageyama could probably go on for hours about his different rankings—maybe even his whole life.

Watching them, Shouyou feels his heart settle into something warm, like the way sunlight casts a hazy orange over his room to drown out the shadows. Natsu looks up at Kageyama with sparkles in her eyes as Kageyama waxes poetic, and it’s such a comforting sight—Shouyou’s two favorite people in the whole world together—that his chest aches and bleeds open with the familiarity of it all. He feels like he’s falling from the sky again, except he doesn’t particularly mind, and he’s got just the slightest feeling that the clouds will be there to catch him.

And this, he realizes, is something he will miss the most when it’s all over. So he tries to carve it into memory, into an empty space in his ribs, remembering the exact way sunbeams dropped into Kageyama’s hair to make him shine golden, and the way the daylight turned his sister into a firestarter, brimming and burning with curiosity. He tells himself to remember sitting here, his hair tied up in different spots with colorful stickers on his face, and to never, ever forget it. This is something he must hold onto, because there are less and less days for him to keep it. He’ll keep it close with him, wherever he goes, and never let go.

Tobio’s made a terrible decision. It’s probably the worst he’s ever made.

Granted, it _had_ seemed to be a good idea at the time, maybe even spectacular, and he’d thought that it would be easy enough to pull it off. But somewhere along the way he’d messed up terribly, and he’s not sure if he’s ever going to be able to recover from this. It’s just awful.

Even Miwa had laughed at him when he frantically tried sending pictures to her to ask for help. She’d suggested a couple of things to help make it better, but the damage was already done, and this is one of the things that only time and luck can repair. So Tobio has no choice but to mournfully resign himself to his fate, and to never try doing something like this on his own ever again. He should’ve known it was a bad idea. What’s that thing people say about hindsight being much clearer? Maybe he should’ve paid more attention to that.

Tobio’s lived with his mistakes before. He can do it again.

But when he walks into the club room that morning, it turns so silent that he could probably hear a pin drop and everyone’s attention turns to him. Tobio feels the back of his neck prickle at all the eyes on him, and he’s just about to take another step forward when it all finally breaks.

Tsukishima bursts out laughing, that bastard, wheezing so hard that he’s clutching his stomach, and Yamaguchi’s trying to hide his snickers under his hand in an attempt to be kind, but Tobio knows the truth. Even the second and first-years seem extremely shocked, and Tobio grumbles as he walks over to his locker, keeping his head ducked low.

“Oh, did you get a haircut, Kageyama?” Tsukishima says, smirking, a laugh curling around his words. “I never would’ve noticed.”

“Shut up,” he snaps, rolling his eyes. Okay, he’s aware that it wasn’t his best idea, but when Natsu had tied up his hair, he’d realized how much easier it was to see, and it certainly hadn’t helped that Hinata had looked at him like…like _that,_ and it had all gotten into his head. Stupid Hinata, not making him think straight—this is all his fault, really, because if he hadn’t made that stupid comment about Tobio’s stupid eyes, then maybe he would’ve never done this stupid thing to begin with.

“And I thought I’ve had bad hair days,” Tsukishima adds, and Tobio wants to see just how he’d look after getting punched. Just because his hair’s growing out all wavy and nice doesn’t mean he’s any better, that pretentious asshole. “But this one might last a while, don’t you think?”

Tobio grits his teeth. “Would you just—”

Tsukishima grins. “Oh, I wonder what Hinata will think about this one—”

“What I’ll think about what?” Hinata says, suddenly appearing in the doorway, his bag slung over his shoulder. His eyes are wide and innocent, and Tobio has never wanted to curl up and die on the spot so badly. Hinata narrows his eyes at Tsukishima. “What are you guys laughing about? I’ve never seen you smile so early in the morning before.”

“See for yourself,” Tsukishima says, and Tobio really, really hates him.

“See what—” Hinata says, confused, and then his eyes land on Tobio, on his hair, cut a little unevenly, his fringe gone. “Oh. _Oh.”_

Tsukishima wheezes, and Yamaguchi laughs along. Tobio expects Hinata to follow suit, to break out into a grin and start cracking jokes. Tobio stares hard at the floor, and waits for it to come like a punchline, and he prepares himself for the worst.

But nothing comes.

Tobio looks up, and what he finds surprises him even more than the silence: Hinata is standing there, his eyes wide, completely frozen, his face so red that it’s almost worrying. Tobio makes a confused sound at the back of his throat, waiting for Hinata to say something, _anything_ , but he has yet to offer a single comment. Instead, Hinata is just _blushing._

“Wait, don’t tell me he actually _likes_ —”

“Shhh, Tsukki!”

“Um,” Tobio says, awkward. He doesn’t have anything else to offer, bringing his hand up to touch his hair, missing the old locks dearly.

Then Hinata seems to snap out of it, blinking repeatedly. Another blush colors his cheeks, and he steps forward, walking closer to Tobio until he’s right in front of him. Tobio glances around, and sees that everyone else seems to have moved on from his latest embarrassment, and relief instantly floods him. That’s one less thing to worry about now.

“Hi,” Tobio says lamely, shifting his weight to his other foot. He can’t remember the last time he’d been this awkward around Hinata. “What are you—”

“I like it!” Hinata blurts out, and his face is impossibly red again. Tobio’s starting to get suspicious that he’s sick again. He thinks he hears Tsukishima laugh again, but it’s drowned out by Hinata’s words repeating over and over his head, echoing loudly.

“ _What?”_ Tobio breathes out, and this is probably the biggest surprise of the day. He stares right at Hinata, hopelessly confused, because this doesn’t make sense at all. He’d expected Hinata to be laughing, so why isn’t he?

Hinata laughs awkwardly, and pink spreads like watercolor on his freckles cheeks. Hands fumbling together, he opens his mouth, closes it, and opens it again, like he’s trying to figure out what to say. Then with a huff, he squares his shoulders, and brings his chin up to look at Kageyama. “I like it,” he says, more resolutely, solid and definite.

Tobio is barely aware of Yamaguchi telling the underclassmen to get going to the gym as they slowly trickle out. He’s hyperfixating on that one freckle Hinata’s got under his eye, a weak attempt to keep himself sane like an anchor. He thinks it’s a new one. That makes twenty freckles in total now.

“Is this some kind of joke,” Tobio manages to say, his voice coming out unsure and flat, because he’s kind of sure it is, just another one of Hinata’s lame jokes, and the punchline will come any second now to make it all make sense, but Tobio doesn’t think it’s funny at all. “Because I swear—”

“It isn’t!” Hinata exclaims, waving his hands. “It’s—it’s nice! It’s like what I said before! I can see your eyes more clearly now, and it looks really good! It just—I was just a little surprised, that’s all.”

Tobio blinks. Slowly, he says, “You don’t think it looks…funny?”

“Well,” Hinata says, tipping his head slightly. His hands wring together again. “To be honest, it kinda does, but I dunno, it makes it seem more like… _you?_ Like, it looks a bit weird, but not _that_ weird. The usual new-haircut-kind-of-weird, you know? It’ll just take some time getting used to.”

“Oh.”

“Especially since you’ve had the same cut for two years, right?” Hinata says supportively, and Tobio nods, but he feels numb except for the loud drumming of his heart against his chest, and all he can really hear is _I like it, I like it, I like it._ Oh, god, he’s completely taken with this boy—just absolutely _smitten_. “It’s…it’s nice. Tsukishima’s just being his dumb self.”

“Thanks,” Tobio finds it in himself to reply, and Hinata smiles brightly.

They head out of the club room shortly after that, not wanting to be late for practice. Tobio still gets a couple of weird stares from the juniors, and he swears he hears Coach Ukai mutter something to Takeda when he walks by, but he ignores it. He still feels all warm from what Hinata had said, and Tobio could honestly care less about everyone else.

And thinking back, he kind of likes his hair too. He just needed some time to get used to it.

After warming up, they start a practice match, and Tobio thinks that he’s at the top of his game. His tosses feel really good on his fingers, finding its mark perfectly with utmost consistency, and he doesn’t think he’s ever done better. Most of his tosses don’t get blocked, racking up the points, and it helps to see just how pissed off Tsukishima is getting because of it. Yamaguchi looks proud, and Tobio feels the pinpoint accuracy down to his very bones, like lines that only he can see, and it’s a nearly perfect game.

And it would be absolutely perfect, Tobio thinks, if Hinata would _stop looking at him._

Every time Tobio seems to look in his direction, Hinata already’s staring at him, immediately turning pink when Tobio so much as just turns his head to _glance_ at him. Hinata’s normally weird, but this is taking it to a whole new level, and Tobio doesn’t know what to do about it. Even now, as he rotates to the front, he can feel Hinata’s eyes on him, burning into the back of his head.

His spikes are as strong as usual, moving around quickly to fulfill his role as a decoy, catching the blockers’ attention, so Tobio’s relieved that it isn’t affecting his focus on the game. But every time they go for a break, and even after the match ends, Tobio can feel Hinata looking at him, and he doesn’t know whether to be thrilled that Hinata’s attention is on him or uncomfortable and annoyed.

Tobio whirls around, narrowing his eyes at Hinata, and walks over to him.

“Eep,” Hinata squeaks, his shoulders tensing up, and he tries to duck behind Yamaguchi, but Tobio only rolls his eyes and comes closer to face him.

“What’s up with you?” Tobio asks him. “Why do you keep— _staring?_ I thought you said the hair wasn’t a big deal!”

“It isn’t!” Hinata says, forcibly having to stand in front of Tobio when Yamaguchi moves away, a knowing smile on his lips—well, not exactly _knowing,_ because Tobio doesn’t know what the hell it’s supposed to mean. “It’s just…distracting.”

“ _Distracting?”_

“I told you, I just need to get used to it!”

“Then get used to it faster!” Tobio tells him, a little incredulous. “You keep staring at me!”

“I’m trying!” Hinata argues, his cheeks reddening again as he crosses his arms. “‘s not my fault,” he mutters. Rubbing his hand over his face, Hinata makes a sound on the back of his throat, and sighs. “Look,” he says. “I’ll be honest and say that I’m probably gonna have to look at you more to get used to it, so just—just ignore it, alright?”

Tobio blinks. He blushes, as the idea of Hinata looking at him all day comes to his mind. He’s never going to admit it, and he doesn’t even like acknowledging it to himself, but he gets a funny feeling whenever Hinata looks at him. His insides turn warm and squishy when he knows Hinata’s attention is on him—Hinata who usually has the attention span of a fly, always buzzing around and finding new things to call interesting, never stationary, and the only thing constant in his head is probably just volleyball. So to have Hinata look at him, even if just for a day…

Maybe this wasn’t a bad idea, after all.

Coach Ukai claps his hands to signal the end of practice. Then he cups his hands over his mouth, and says, “Hinata-kun, meet me and Takeda-san in the staff room when you’re done! There’s something I want to tell you.”

“Yes, sir!” Hinata says with a slight bow. Then he beams up at Kageyama, and waving at him as he starts to jog toward Coach. “I’ll see you later, Kageyama!”

Tobio holds up a wave, nodding. He hears a snort of laughter from behind him, and turns around to find the source.

It’s Yamaguchi and Yachi, and Tobio immediately doesn’t like the mischievous glints in their eyes, like they know something that he doesn’t.

“What?” he says, narrowing his eyes.

Yamaguchi claps a hand to his shoulder. “Hinata’s pretty cheery today, isn’t he?” he says, teasing, and Yachi giggles next to him. “But it’s nothing to worry about, Kageyama, if that’s what you think.”

“You’re not making any sense.”

Yachi grins. “It’s nothing, really. Just something super cute.”

Tobio groans, and realizes that no matter how much he’s gotten better at understanding people, some words will always elude him, and it’s better to just leave these things to rest. Shrugging, he decides to head back into the club room to get ready for his classes.

He really doesn’t know if he can deal with any more surprises today.

On the morning of the Spring High Qualifiers, Tobio finds Hinata Shouyou at the bottom of the hill, leaning against the streetlight with his bike next to him. The early sun stands as his backdrop, pale blue with the slightest strokes of yellow. It seems to enhance him as he stands there, vibrant and colorful against the coming of the dawn, a fiery orange to make up for the slow slumber of the sunrise. Tobio thinks that this is the closest he’ll ever come to heaven, to watching this boy stand there, unaware of the kingdoms that rise and fall at his feet, of the way his brilliance stretches from countryside to cityscape.

The ground crunches at his feet as he walks over, and the sound alerts Hinata, turning his head to look over him. He smiles, like a flare off the sun itself, glinting even under the luster. Miyagi’s golden boy, the love of summer placed into a human being.

“I was waiting for you,” Hinata says, his hands tucked into his pockets as he kicks himself off the lamppost to stand properly. He grins, relaxed, and Tobio finds it a little surprising, at how much more easy he looks compared to their first year, when the mere idea of a match made him queasy. He looks at Hinata again, and it’s as though his turn for his heart to feel a little weak, but only because of how Hinata looks under the ocean sky.

“You didn’t have to,” Tobio says.

Hinata smiles again. “I know.”

He watches as Hinata hits the kickstand of his bike, rolling it next to his side, sandwiched in between the two of them. As simple as that, they begin their journey to school, where a bus will be waiting for them, ready to take them to the official gym.

“We’ll take it this year,” Tobio says, and even if you can never be certain with volleyball, his words find all the conviction that they can, and he gathers it all up in his arms. He feels it under his skin, a steady pressure on his bones. “Then we’ll go to Nationals.”

“We’ll be number one,” Hinata says, and there’s that look—the one he gets before games, all his determination and stubbornness and competitiveness bleeding into features on his face like a collapse of watercolor paint, overlapping and bursting and controlled all at once. It burns something bright in Tobio. “And then we’ll go even higher.”

Tobio nods. He doesn’t need to say anything for Hinata to know that he believes in the same thing, in their team. They’ll make it, and they’ll climb as high as they can. They’ll fly.

Just like they’ve always done.

When Shouyou finds Kageyama, he’s watching the stars.

The summer heat simmers down into something cooler in the night, letting gusts of slow wind blow past around his knees and hide into the blades of grass. The moon drops little beams onto the tops of the ground, illuminating the field enough for him to see, and earth is soft beneath his feet. The world is gentle tonight, Shouyou can tell, and he wonders what it’ll bring him this time. Maybe the night will tell him a secret it borrowed, or maybe even something already familiar.

It takes Shouyou a moment, his eyes learning the rhythm of the dancing shadows, to find him. Kageyama Tobio is sitting in the shadows just like he belongs there, resting under a low-hanging tree with his eyes to the sky, turned midnight blue to reflect it. He does this sometimes, whenever they go to a training camp—after a particularly long and grueling day, and when Kageyama still finds himself unable to sleep, he retreats out into the open sky, and lets the world swallow him whole. Shouyou’s gotten used to it after the first few times, and he joins Kageyama when the sleep doesn’t seem to take him either.

The futon next to his had been empty earlier, and in an instant Shouyou had known where to go.

“You look like a serial killer,” Shouyou says in lieu of a greeting, grinning as he takes a spot next to Kageyama. Their shoulders are touching, a little bit of warmth in the chilly evening air. He shivers. “It’d be creepy if I didn’t already know you were here.”

“A serial killer?” Kageyama says, sounding a little amused. “And what are you, my victim?”

“Nah,” he says, and he brings his chest up to his knees, and leans against the tree. “I’d be your partner in crime! Your accomplice!”

Kageyama scoffs. “You’d never be a good one. You’re too bright, they’d see you coming a mile away.”

“It’s the hair, isn’t it?” Shouyou says, reaching out to touch a lock of his hair. Kageyama’s right—he can see it in the dark with ease.

“And you’re loud, dumbass. You’d get us caught.”

“But _you’d_ never be able to escape into vents and stuff. Your legs are too long for that,” Shouyou points out, tipping his head back until it hits the wood softly. His eyes gaze up towards the stars, past the tree leaves and into the inky darkness. Then he turns back to Kageyama, watching the way the moonlight peppers his face with light kisses, the night always gentle for him. He nudges Kageyama’s shoulder. “So what’s up tonight? Why’d you go out here this time?”

Kageyama shrugs, a languid movement. “I was just thinking.”

“Oh, don’t hurt yourself.”

“Shut up,” Kageyama retorts, rolling his eyes. He shifts in his position, pressing himself closer into the tree, almost like he wants to become one with it. He waves a hand around, only half-committedly, before sighing and turning back to Shouyou with an expression that he can’t quite place. “Just,” he says, like he’s looking for the words, and shaking his head when he doesn’t quite find it. “Doesn’t it ever get too much sometimes?”

“What do you mean?” Shouyou asks, inching a little closer, wringing his hands together on top of his knees.

“This,” Kageyama says, and Shouyou watches curiously as he points to his chest, making a circle motion around it. “Feeling things, all the time. I’m not—I know I’m not good with… _feelings.”_ He winces. “But sometimes, when I think I’m doing okay, it gets too much again.”

“You’re not trying to tell me that you’ve secretly been a robot this whole time, right?”

“ _No_ , dumbass, I’m not a robot,” Kageyama answers with another eye roll. “I’m human.”

Shouyou allows himself a teasing smile, before he shifts his expression into something more serious. Kageyama’s all tense around the shoulders, which means he’s really thinking about it, and that it’s something that’s been bugging him.

He clears his throat. “Well,” Shouyou says, thinking to himself quietly. “Sometimes, yeah. But then you just learn to make the space inside you bigger to fit everything, you know? It doesn’t have to happen all at once. It takes time. You get used to it.”

Kageyama’s lips are pressed together in a thin line, and Shouyou can almost hear him thinking. “But how long will that take?” he asks. “I don’t—I don’t know what to do with them.”

“With what?” Their arms brush as Shouyou moves closer, trying to catch the way Kageyama’s mouth moves over the syllables, a little rough, and he cups them in his palms to smooth them out as best as he can.

“All these feelings,” Kageyama says, sounding a little lost. “I don’t know where to put them.”

“Then I’ll take it,” Shouyou finds himself saying without hesitation. His hand lands on the grass between them, in those centimeters that hold distance over them. “You can give it to me.”

Kageyama blinks, looking surprised. Then he shakes his head, looking away in disbelief. He frowns. “You can’t do that.”

“I’m serious,” Shouyou says, and even if he isn’t sure what he’s saying, he knows they’re true. He’s said it before—he’ll take it. He’ll take whatever Kageyama is willing to offer. He’ll do it. “I can have it.”

“But it doesn’t work like that.”

“Why not?” he says, tilting his head. He looks up at Kageyama, not once backing down just to prove how honest he’s being. “Just give it to me. I’ll have it.”

“You don’t know what you’re saying,” Kageyama says, and he’s shaking his head again. “You don’t know what that means.”

“Yes, I do,” Shouyou says stubbornly. “I know what it means, all of it, and it sounds lovely.”

“It’s messy,” Kageyama says. “It’s horrendous.”

“Then it’ll be magnificent,” he says back. “That’s how it always just is. It’s bad, then it’s good. You just have to take care of it.” Shouyou looks right up at Kageyama, wondering if he knows just what exactly Shouyou means, how far he would go for this impossible boy. How it’s leaps and bounds away from simple friendship, how he would follow him to the ends of the earth if asked.

“So let me take care of it,” Shouyou says with finality. His eyes catch on the midnight ocean of Kageyama’s, and Shouyou finds the whole galaxy inside of them. Just how great would Kageyama’s feelings be, if he couldn’t fit them inside the universe?

After a moment, Kageyama nods, and says, “Okay.”

Shouyou smiles, small and soft, and in an act of bravery, he lets his hand find Kageyama’s, squeezing it three times. A confession he can only say when Kageyama isn’t listening. _I am here, I’ll take it, I love you._ Kageyama smiles back, and the last message goes unheard into the still night air.

From above, a bird chirps, moving against the branches, before taking off back into the sky. Shouyou’s wondered enough times what it would be like to fly so as not to have to spend too long on it. For tonight, he will let those thoughts rest, and think of something else. His gaze wanders even farther, past the tree leaves and the branches, past the clouds and up above. To the stars. He watches as a couple of them twinkle back down on him, if they’re sending a message in morse code. Would it be a wish or a warning? If the stars could speak, what stories would they have to offer? They’ve seen the world grow and change, and they have seen everything. They know all the names in history.

Vaguely, Shouyou wonders if his and Kageyama’s will be in it.

“You know,” Shouyou says quietly, careful not to disturb the breeze with his clumsy syllables. “They say that people are made out of the same elements that stars are. That really, deep down, we’re made of the same stuff. Isn’t that cool?”

“Yeah,” Kageyama answers after a heartbeat, always one to find his own pacing, to choose the in-betweens. Shouyou tilts his head, finding Kageyama’s gaze on the heavens above. The moonlight slants against his jaw, sharp and clean like porcelain, and Shouyou wonders just how many times Kageyama’s had to put himself back together, fit the jagged pieces of glass back together to perfection. How often does he do it, how practiced has he become, that the execution has become flawless? He hides the cracks so well; he’s gotten so good at it that it’s hard to see beyond it sometimes. Even Shouyou had almost missed it.

“If you think about it, we’re pretty alike, us and the stars,” Shouyou says, and lets his words hang in the air for just a moment. “People don’t like being alone, you know? We stick together. Maybe that’s why we gave the stars the same thing with constellations. Because we knew that they wouldn’t want to be alone either. We all wanna stick to each other.”

“People only want to stick to the people they like,” Kageyama says, his voice barely even audible. His eyes are far away, in some distant planet that only he can see, and Shouyou wishes he had a rocket ship to take him there. To make a mess of the plans Kageyama had built, just to prove to him that he already had a home back on Earth, with him.

Kageyama breathes, and it’s as heavy as the whole universe weighing him down. “And people don’t like me.”

 _I like you,_ Shouyou almost says. And he feels as though if Kageyama looked at him, if he looked at Shouyou for just a moment, he wouldn’t be able to keep all of it from spilling out. _I like you,_ he’d say again, to make sure Kageyama knows it, to test just how much he’d believe it. _And if you asked me right now, I’d tell you the whole truth of it, get right down to it, and tell you just how much of me you hold in your hands without knowing it. I’d say it, and I’d show you the landscape of my heart, and I’d take you to the garden, where it is beautiful and bright and filled with all that we could be. And I’d show you the stars, how they shine for you, like you hung them yourself. Would that be so hard to believe? That I would name the stars for you? And I’d tell you these things, if you looked, if you asked, but you would never believe me._

_But I wish you would. I wish you’d let me tell you._

“What am I then?” Shouyou asks, instead of everything else that his heart cries out. “And what’s the rest of Karasuno? Do we mean that little that you already forgot?”

“I didn’t forget,” Kageyama mumbles, looking away. “I just—”

“People like you, Kageyama Tobio,” Shouyou says sternly, seriously. “How do you not know this? Of course people do. You’re _you._ You’re an arrogant, selfish, mean jerk, but you’re also really nice and caring and passionate. People _care_ about you. Your friends care about you. Why do you always seem to forget that?”

“I’m not easy to be around,” Kageyama says, voice so small, so defeated, that it makes Shouyou’s chest ache. He’d thought… He’d been stupid to think that all of Kageyama’s insecurities had disappeared after their first year, and that he still carried some doubts. Some things like that stay with you forever, but you just need the right things to fend them off. “And when it becomes too much, I don’t know what to do. What if they leave?”

“But what if they stay?” Shouyou says. “I’ve seen you more than anyone else has, and I’m still around, aren’t I? Doesn’t that count for something? As long as the people who care about you stay, then isn’t that all that matters? All you have to do is make sure you’re leaving them something that’s worth believing in.”

He squeezes Kagayema’s hand again, three times, for the words that he is trying to say but can’t, having to find different ways around it. “And you have, so many times, over and over. Even the worst of you, I believe in. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Kageyama makes a sound, as though he’d just realized he was loveable. Shouyou almost wants to laugh and cry at that, at the simple irony of just how great his love is for Kageyama Tobio. Maybe in the excess, in the vastness of it all, Kageyama hadn’t been able to see beyond it, nearly thinking that it didn’t exist. But the truth is, Shouyou thinks, if Kageyama knew about his feelings, if he’d known the full extent of it, he’d probably be drowning it, unable to see anything but love.

_Do you feel the way I do, right now?_

Shouyou isn’t able to say anything else before Kageyama’s arms wrap around him, suddenly engulfing him in a hug. Kageyama holds him tightly, holding him like a lifeline, like a prayer with no words, and Shouyou clings to him just as tightly. He doesn’t know what Kageyama’s thinking, or how it had even come to this, but he’ll do his best to make sure that it doesn’t happen again.

“Sorry,” Kageyama mumbles into the crook of Shouyou’s neck. “I know it most days, but sometimes I just forget, and it becomes harder to remember, and I don’t—”

“But that’s what I’m here for,” Shouyou says, and he lets go to offer Kageyama a sunny smile, but keeps their hands connected. “I’ll take it, remember? When it gets too much, I can have it for safekeeping, and I’ll give it back to you so that you don’t ever forget.”

Kageyama nods, and the moonlight doesn’t let the tears pricking his eyes escape. He goes back to leaning against the tree, eyes up on the stars again. His breaths come slowly, a little uneven before they find their proper pacing, and Shouyou lets the world slow down next to them, trapping them in a little slip of time. The night had shown him something new, after all, if not a little bit familiar too. A little bit of both, it had decided.

They stay like that for a couple more minutes, maybe even an hour, and the moon glows a different color to let Shouyou know that it’s probably time to head back. They’ve been here long enough, and they still have practice in the morning.

Getting himself back onto his feet, Shouyou stabilizes himself before pulling Kageyama up with the hand he’s holding, hovering next to him as they stand under the tree. They walk back to where they’re supposed to be staying the night, crossing the corridors with their shadows tied closely behind them, following them as they map out the building on their journey.

When they make it to the door, Shouyou lets go of Kageyama’s hand as they lay down on their futons, and immediately he longs for the warmth it had brought to him. But instead of showing it, he puts on his brace face and a smile, and looks at Kageyama, only a few centimeters away.

“Night, Yamayama-kun,” he says, a yawn on his lips not too far after. He hears Yamaguchi breathe softly on his other side, and one of the first-years lets out a loud snore. “Sweet dreams, ‘kay?”

“Night,” Kageyama whispers, and the moon illuminated the smile on his face, genuine and kind and small.

Shouyou puts it down to memory and keeps it in his chest, tracing its ghost with his eyes even as it disappears, lying on his back and feeling his heart try to jump out of his chest. He takes it into his dreams, and pictures a soft evening, where the world is quiet and gentle, and there is not a single worry in his head at all. And with it, he finds a little bit of hope too.

He lets himself believe it, if only in a dream, if only for a moment.

“Kageyama. No, no, that’s not it, you’re not supposed to— _ow!”_

Tobio winces. “Sorry,” he mutters, apologetic. He looks at Hinata to find his sunset eyes narrowed back up at him, his face scrunched up with a mix of mild annoyance and pain.

“ _You’re_ the one who asked me for help. The least you could do is not step on my feet,” Hinata says with a little huff. His hand falls from Tobio’s side as he goes to run a hand through his hair. It’s getting long, Tobio notices, and it looks really soft. But it’s always looked that way, he tells himself, and his fingers itch to try to touch it. He wonders if it’s as soft as it looks.

“It’s not like I’m _trying_ to,” Tobio argues, his expression immediately turning into a scowl. “I told you I wasn’t good at this. And _you_ said it would be fine.”

“It is fine!” Hinata says defensively, crossing his arms. “It’s just—you’re really stiff, and if you stopped stepping on my feet for two seconds, I’d say you were getting the hang of it!”

“Then stop putting your feet so close to mine,” Tobio snaps. “It’s messing me up.”

“Let’s just hope whoever you end up dancing with is a good sport,” Hinata says with a cheeky grin. Tobio moves to swipe at him, only for Hinata to dodge it with practiced ease. “You’re getting slow, Kageyama-kun.”

“And you’re getting annoying,” Tobio says, rolling his eyes. He sighs, rubbing his temple with his hand. He goes to lean against the wall. “This is so stupid. Why do I even have to do this?”

“‘Cause it’s your aunt’s wedding, isn’t that what you said?” Hinata says, skipping over to stand next to him. The gym’s empty save for the two of them, since they’d come by to get some extra practice in during lunch. But now they’re doing something else, Tobio thinks distastefully, all because Hinata couldn’t help but be so nosey. He’d asked Tobio what was bothering him and wouldn’t stop until he answered, so Tobio had been forced to admit it.

“That doesn’t mean I have to dance, does it? Do you think they’ll really make me?” Tobio asks a little helplessly. He feels his skin crawl at the mere thought of it—trying to dance nicely with relatives, hopefully not making a huge fool of himself. “Ugh.”

“Well, it would be pretty fun,” Hinata says supportively, tilting his head in that way Tobio’s come to find a little too endearing. “You’d probably look all lonely sitting by yourself. You’d be all like—” Hinata pats his hair down, scowling, and Tobio realizes it’s supposed to be a poor imitation of himself, “ _I’m Tobio-chan, and I’m tall and bad at dancing so don’t try asking me or else I’ll just step on your feet, like I did to my bestest, most amazing volleyball player friend, Hinata.”_

Tobio tries to hit him again, but, quite unfortunately, misses again. “Dumbass!” he says, and Hinata throws himself into a fit of laughter, clutching his stomach. “You’re so annoying.”

Hinata grins, and points to himself. “Yeah, but you’re the one asking for my help, remember?”

“I didn’t ask,” Tobio shoots back. “You offered, remember? This was your stupid idea.”

“Who’s the one who said they didn’t wanna look like an idiot while they were dancing, huh?” Hinata says, and he has the audacity to look _smug_. With a stretch of his arms over his head, he holds his hand out to Tobio again. “Okay, you wanna try again?”

“Not really.”

Hinata ignores him, and snatches Tobio’s hand from his side. He feels his cheeks burn almost immediately, as Hinata guides Tobio’s hand to the proper position, the other clasped with Hinata’s own. Tobio averts his eyes, trying not to focus on his hand on Hinata’s waist, and hoping that his palms aren’t as sweaty as he thinks they are.

“Okay,” Hinata says, voice much softer. When Tobio glances at him, he finds Hinata’s eyes trained on him, focused with a look he doesn’t really get. “We’ll go slower this time. Just follow my counting, yeah?”

Tobio grunts in agreement, and as Hinata slowly breathes out the numbers, _one, two, three, one, two, three, see that’s not so hard,_ he keeps his eyes on his feet, focusing on the right steps. He only accidentally steps on Hinata’s foot once, but it’s not as bad as the few first times, and it’s not long before he gets the hang of it. Relief immediately floods him, thankful that he might not have to look completely stupid at the wedding. At least Miwa won’t laugh at him. She’s probably the only person who’d dance with him willingly.

“You know,” Hinata says, a teasing lilt to his tone, having stopped counting once Tobio nodded that he was doing okay without it. “It’s kind of an unspoken rule that you look at your partner’s face once in a while instead of looking at your feet the whole time.”

Tobio’s head snaps up to him then, and he feels like his face is turning all shades of pink. He gets caught on the smile of Hinata’s face, tracing the upward curve, mapping out the freckles on his cheeks. He hadn’t realized how close they’d gotten, and he can see the shadows of his eyelashes, hidden underneath, long and curved. He’s so pretty, Tobio thinks, and he blushes even more, but he can’t seem to look away.

“See?” Hinata says, his grin toothy and wide. His cheeks are flushed pink. “Just like that.”

They keep dancing, little box steps, one after the other, using their heartbeats to count as they go along. Tobio’s mind wanders back to the hand he’s got on Hinata’s waist, how he’s holding it, all the way to the other hand he has intertwined with his own. He feels so, so warm all over, and all Tobio is trying so hard to focus on the steps instead of the inches that hover in the air between them, and how easy and simple it would be to close that gap.

“You’re thinking really loudly,” Hinata says, amused, and Tobio doesn’t really know why he does it, or how it happens, exactly, but then Hinata leans forward, his head coming to rest on Tobio’s shoulder.

He stiffens. Hinata always makes it so damn difficult not to overthink. What is he supposed to do about this? Is this normal? This wasn’t what he expected when Hinata had offered to teach him—he’d assumed there’d be a lot more laughing on Hinata’s end, and more embarrassment from his. Not…not _this._ What is he supposed to do with it?

First, he tries to relax, and hopes that Hinata doesn’t hear how fast his heartbeat is going. Tobio wouldn’t be surprised if it didn’t jump out of his chest right there and then, and he wonders if Hinata would catch it. He lets himself focus on the steps again, _one, two, three,_ and not the steady breathing of the boy in front of him.

It feels like an eternity, but it’s really only a few minutes until Hinata lifts his head from Tobio’s shoulder, looking up to face him. There’s that strange expression again, close to the one he gets during games, all serious and weird—but Tobio knows those looks, he’s familiar with them, but this one is harboring something else within. A smile rises to Hinata’s lips, but it’s half-hearted, like his eyes are holding a wish in them, but it’s something he can’t have. Tobio wonders what it could be.

Hinata lets go of Tobio’s hand, removes his hand from the setter’s shoulder, and Tobio lets his hand fall from Hinata’s waist. If the warmth had been overwhelming, then the sudden absence of it was jarring, making him wish for more. His fingers itch at his sides; it would be so simple, so incredibly simple, for him to reach out and take Hinata’s hand again, to press his palm to Hinata’s jaw, and hold him ever so gently.

Then Hinata grins, and the spell breaks, and Tobio feels like he’s stumbling backwards, trying to find his proper footing on stable ground. Instead, he finds himself back in the ocean.

“See? You’ll be fine,” Hinata says reassuringly, and he takes a step back, and it makes Tobio ache, like being too close was poison. He knows that Hinata doesn’t think that way, he’s not mean, but it was weird of them to do this whole thing in the first place, wasn’t it? It was weird, and Hinata’s just realizing it. “Just don’t step on anyone’s feet, and if someone asks, tell them you learned from the best!”

“Is that supposed to be you?” Tobio retorts, but his mouth feels dry, and something is lodged in his throat. The phantom touch of Hinata’s head on his shoulder still lingers, the closest they’ve ever been, and would it be so wrong, Tobio thinks, to ask for more?

Hinata shoves his shoulder, rolling his eyes, but there’s a smile on his lips. “Mean,” he says, lips twitching upwards. “Mean, Bakageyama.” Then he stretches his arms over his head, and Tobio tries not to stare at where his shirt rides slightly up.

He averts his eyes, coughing. “Uh,” he says, and he feels his cheeks reddening again, and Tobio really needs to learn to accept that it just seems to be a common occurrence whenever Hinata is around. “Thanks, I guess. For, you know. That.”

Hinata beams, all bright and wide. “You’re welcome, Kageyama!” he exclaims.

Tobio rolls his eyes, telling himself to look away or face being blinded by a light enough to rival a million suns. “Whatever,” he mumbles, shy, biting the inside of his cheek. “But if I step on anyone’s feet, then I’ll know exactly who to blame.”

“You won’t,” Hinata insists, patting Tobio’s back. “Just pretend it’s me you’re dancing with, and you won’t get nervous!”

Tobio almost wants to laugh. He’s _more_ nervous dancing with Hinata than with anyone else. “Sure,” he says dryly. “That’ll work.”

“Get all that good gossip while you’re at it,” Hinata says mischievously, rubbing his hands together.

Tobio bonks him the head. “Dumbass.”

Together, they step outside of the gym, a couple more minutes to spare before lunch ends. The heat is slowly dying down to make way for autumn, bringing a chill to curl around their knees when the evening comes later.

“Vows are always the best parts of any wedding,” Hinata says as they head back to their classroom. “After the food, obviously. But they’re really sweet, you know? They show just how dedicated the people are to their love.”

Tobio hasn’t been to a lot of weddings. “I didn’t know that.”

“Yeah!” Hinata says cheerfully, his hands gesturing as they climb up the steps. “Sometimes they even tell stories! Like how they met and stuff. Or how they got together. That’s why you should always make sure you’ve got a good story to tell.”

“Is a boring story bad?” Tobio asks.

“No.” Hinata shakes his head, a finger coming to rest on his chin while he thinks. “It’s not bad. But it’s just more interesting when you’ve got this whole thing set up, you know? You can’t always control it, but sometimes you can get lucky.”

Tobio looks at Hinata, and the heart in his chest is bleeding. “What happens if it’s a sad story?”

“Oh,” Hinata says, looking right back up at him. He blinks. “Well, weddings… They don’t really have sad stories. They’re supposed to end happy, that’s what makes them a celebration.”

Tobio nods, and he’s not sure why, but he feels his heart sink, even if he’d known that there was nothing to hope for.

“But,” Hinata says. “I guess a lot of stories have sad parts in them? You can’t know happiness without first knowing sadness, and it’s obviously not always going to be easy. Maybe they had to do long-distance, or they took forever to get together. That kind of stuff.”

“Oh,” Tobio says.

“But anyway, it’s not like I know much! I’ve only been to,” Hinata holds up his hand, and counts on his fingers, “five weddings before. People always have different stories to tell, and they’re all different from each other. That’s what gives you hope, I think.”

Tobio nods. “I’ll tell you then,” he says, and Hinata looks at him a little confused, until he continues, “I’ll tell you. How their story went, how they got to their happy ending, even if it was sad.”

And Hinata just smiles, that easy one that curls up in Tobio’s heart with old familiarity, worn around his shoulders like a favorite jacket. “I’ll look forward to it,” he says, and Tobio thinks that they should at least deserve it. A soft epilogue, for all they’ve been through. No matter how it goes, or what words they write, or how far they leave it all behind. They deserve one.

And if no one will write it, Tobio will do it himself.

He doesn’t know that Hinata’s trying to do it too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you can find me on [tumblr!](https://superish.tumblr.com) thank you for reading!! <3


	5. sea of lovers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> their third year of high school truly is free real estate and i love it
> 
> [[playlist]](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0tPRilBHwRfwIygCi2mTI5?si=eyKU_gQkSHqAii0unM0k_w)
> 
> hope you enjoy!

> To: Hinata
> 
> _I didn’t step on anyone’s feet today._

When Tobio wakes in the morning, it’s to the sound of the microwave. It beeps loudly, the sound ringing through the walls, and Tobio grumbles, his body stirring into wakefulness. As he adjusts to the morning, he finds that the sun has already made itself home within his bedroom, a hazy blur of orange and yellow that fills the room with the muted light from the drawn curtains. Golden beams dance on the crumpled white sheets as he rubs his eyes to shake out the left-over dreams, curling like wisps of smoke into the air and dissolving out of sight. Tobio doesn’t dream often, and when he does he doesn’t really remember them, so it’s not much to lose. He picks himself up as the microwave finally stops ringing, swinging his legs over to the side of his bed.

It then occurs to him to wonder who was using the microwave in the first place. His parents are usually gone by eight in the morning, and Tobio checks the clock to find that it’s nearly nine. Then, like pieces clicking together, he remembers all that’s happened in the past few days, and it makes sense.

With the low grumble of his stomach, Tobio exits his bedroom, walking downstairs to the kitchen and living space, watching as the newest daylight tries to grab hold of it. There’s the sound of clinking against porcelain, tiny little chinks, and the rush of milk being poured into a glass. Tobio would know that sound anywhere.

As he stumbles in, because he’s never been all that stable upon waking, he finds the person responsible for all the noise, two plates presented on the table, a cup of coffee, and a tall glass of milk, just as he’d thought.

“Look who’s finally up,” Miwa says with a light teasing smile, bringing her coffee to her lips and taking a sip. The steam curls around and disappears into the air. “Sleep well?”

Tobio nods, clumsily pulling the chair and sitting down across her. He takes a piece of the bread she laid out, scooping up the leftovers from the wedding sitting in a bowl—newly microwaved—and placing it on his own plate. It’s still a little too hot on his tongue, but it’s nothing he can’t swallow down.

“How long will you be staying?” Tobio asks through a mouthful of food. He knows that it’s best to be out with it when it comes to things like these, and Miwa isn’t the type to be sensitive about it. They’ve both accepted that this is just the way things are, and have been for a while. Miwa tries to visit whenever she can, and Tobio appreciates it. That’s all there is to it.

Miwa taps on her phone, lying next to her on the table. “I’ll probably have to leave by tomorrow,” she tells him, an apologetic tone just barely on her lips. “I’ve got a photoshoot to help out on.”

Tobio nods in understanding. “So it’s going well?”

She smiles, shoulders falling into something more relaxed as her hands cup around her mug. “Yeah,” she answers, looking pleased. “Yeah, it’s going great. What about you? Spring High is next year, isn’t it?”

“It’s in January,” he says to her, and he sips at his milk, not wanting to finish it all in one go. It’s sweet on his tongue.

Miwa taps her fingers idly on the table. “It’s…it’s been a while since I came to one of your games.” Tobio hears the next part without her even having to say it: _I’m sorry._

He shrugs, because while it is nice to have her be there, he gets that she’s busy. And Miwa’s always been supportive of him when it comes to volleyball, especially since she grew up with the sport too, and she’s teased him enough times that it’s probably the one thing he’ll never grow out of love with. She still cares enough to ask, and that’s what matters to Tobio in the long run. She asks for updates, and he gives them to her. She’s the one he tells when they win, or when they lose, and even if words have never truly been a Kageyama thing, she’s always been there in a way that matters, like getting him new shoes when she notices his usual pair are already too worn-out, or buying him more tape for his fingers when he’s running low. That’s enough for him.

“It’s fine,” he says, offering her a smile. “I don’t—it doesn’t bother me. You know that.”

“I do,” she says slowly, like she still has more to say but isn’t quite sure how to shape them right. “But tell me the date, you hear? I’ll try coming. I’ll cheer you on, like before.”

“You really don’t have to,” he tells her quickly. “I don’t want to get in the way—”

“And I’ll what, miss the chance to watch my baby brother become a volleyball superstar?” Miwa says, raising an eyebrow as he lets out a small and soft laugh. “You’re aiming for the V.League, aren’t you? There’s gonna be tons of scouts looking for talented players.”

Tobio knows that, of course. And he wonders how she’d managed to hit the nail on the head, seeing right through his plans. If Tobio is lucky, a pro team will want to have him, and he’ll take it. He’s known for a long time now that volleyball is what he wants to do for the rest of his life, and this is only the first step into properly shaping it to what he wants to see. He wants to reach the top of the world, to go to the Olympics, to play and play and play until he’s old and can’t stand. That’s all he wants to do, really: to keep the feel if the ball on his fingers, to listen to every spike and every block, to keep playing no matter what day and age it is. To win and lose over and over again, as long as it means that he gets to keep playing.

“How did you know?” Tobio asks her, plain and simple. “That’s what I wanted to do? How did you know that?”

“I’d like to say it’s magic, or some older sister intuition, but,” she shakes her head, “I know it isn’t that. Ever since you were a baby, you’d never let go of the ball—and don’t argue with me about this, there are _pictures_ , Tobio—so it’s not that surprising that you’d want to keep it going. I think I’ve always known that, and… And I think _he_ knew that, too.”

Tobio’s stomach drops at the implied mention of Kazuyo, like it always does, a missing hole in his heart that he’ll never be able to fill. Instead of looking for words, he just nods, and takes his glass to finish the milk to hide behind it as an excuse for not saying anything.

“So I’ll come,” Miwa says, smiling to lighten up the mood. Tobio knows it’ll always be a sensitive topic for both of them. “I’ll cheer you on. And when the match is over, I’ll go and embarrass you in front of all your friends—”

“Don’t you dare.”

Miwa grins. “Oh, maybe I’ll even bring some of the baby pictures, what do you think?”

Before Tobio can open his mouth for another dry retort, Miwa’s phone rings, one of the default tones, and she blinks at the screen, her eyes widening. Standing up from her seat, she mouths her apology and Tobio nods, watching her disappear into the guest room for some privacy.

In the silence, Tobio finishes up the rest of his meal, gulping down the rest of his milk. Just then, it’s his turn for his phone to ring, a newer pop song with cheesy lyrics about love and whatever that Hinata’s always singing along to, and Tobio picks it up from beside him, swiping at it without even bothering to look at the screen.

“Kageyama!” Hinata greets loudly the moment the line strings them together. “I can’t believe you answered! You didn’t reply to any of my texts!”

“My phone died before I could,” Tobio tells him, and he glances at the screen, keeping an eye on the nearly-full battery, and finds ten unread messages—likely all from Hinata. “What’d you even send so many for?”

“I just wanted to ask how the wedding went!” Hinata says, a little breathily, and the static rustles on the other end, and Tobio wonders if he’s outside. “You said you didn’t step on anyone’s feet! See? It wasn’t that hard, right?”

Tobio snorts. “It was terrible.”

Hinata laughs, soft and crackling around the line, and suddenly Tobio realizes that it’s the best sound he’s ever heard. It just might be his favorite, but only after the sound of a volleyball spiked in the air. It’s really close, though. “Who’d you dance with? Did anything interesting happen?”

Tobio hums, tucking his phone between his ear and his shoulder as he gets up to place his dishes in the sink. He leans against the counter, switching the phone to his other ear in one swift go. “I danced with my sister,” he says, vaguely remembering bits and pieces, and Miwa had even looked surprised that he knew how, if a little proud too. “And a few of my other relatives. Not a lot, though. And the food was good. A lot of the older people got drunk and started telling stories, but I don’t think they were that interesting?” A lot of them had been about business stuff and politics, and those sort of things have never really caught Tobio’s attention, so he hadn’t really bothered listening.

“What about the vows then?” Hinata asks. While he was there listening, Tobio had remembered that he had a promise to fulfill to Hinata, so that was the part he had paid the most attention, even if Miwa did look at him a little funny.

“You were right,” he says quietly. “It was a happy ending.”

“But what about everything else?”

Tobio pauses, and tries to recall. “It took them really long to get together, and one of them lived in a different country for a while,” he recounts, and the words that aren’t his own feel foreign on his tongue. “But they got together eventually. I think—I think it’s like what you said, but a little bit more. It wasn’t exactly a happy story, or a sad one. Getting there was always a little bit of both mixed in.”

 _“_ Oh _,”_ Hinata says, and the rustling comes to a halt, leaving his voice hanging in the air, suspended enough that Tobio feels he could reach out and grab it.

“They said it was awful,” Tobio continues on, and he wonders why he feels like Hinata should hear this as much as he needs to say it out loud, repeat the words to someone else. Maybe it’s to make sure they were real, that they’re the truth. “Love, I mean. It was messy and unkind and beautiful. It was hard. But they also said that it gave them hope. That to be in love was to have the most hope you could ever have. Maybe that’s how they got to reach their happy ending—because they held onto that hope.”

It’s a few moments before Hinata speaks, so quiet that Tobio had nearly been afraid that Hinata had hung up on him without even noticing. But then there’s a deep inhale, a little shaky on the lungs, and Hinata says, ever so quiet, “Hope, huh? That’s what they said?”

“Yeah,” Tobio breathes.

“What happens…” Hinata says. “What happens if someone thinks they have too much of it, more than they should? Shouldn’t they let it go?”

Tobio blinks. He hadn’t expected that. It’s not something they covered in the vows. “Doesn’t it depend on why they think they should?”

“Let’s say it’s because they’re afraid that they’ll lose more than what they’re asking for,” Hinata says. “What then?”

It sounds a little like familiar territory. He swallows, his throat suddenly going dry. “I don’t know,” Tobio says, because he doesn’t want to give any answer that isn’t honest. That isn’t truthful to how he feels about the boy on the other end of the line. “I don’t know.”

“Then what am I supposed to—” Hinata says, sounding frustrated, before stopping abruptly. He sighs, sounding a little tired, and Tobio imagines him running a hand through his hair. “Sorry. I don’t—just never mind. I’m sorry.”

“What’re you sorry for?” Tobio asks him, confused. “I’m not mad.”

Then Hinata laughs softly, gentle like rain, and Tobio thinks that he’s one of the people who have laughter living inside of them, always just waiting to be released. He mutters something, but it’s because of the static that Tobio doesn’t quite catch it, and it sounds a little suspiciously like _of course._

“What?”

He can almost hear the grin in Hinata’s voice. “Well, if you’re not mad,” he says slowly, mischief rising in his tone, that cheeky bastard. “You wouldn’t mind opening the door, right?”

“What,” Tobio says flatly, not understanding a single word. Then, like an answer, the doorbell rings, echoing loudly throughout the walls, and Tobio’s freezes in place, suddenly understanding. “What the _fuck_.”

He scrambles out of his chair, not bothering to take his phone, and heads to the entryway. With fumbling fingers, he throws the door open, uncaring that he’s still in his pajamas, and finds his fear to be certain and true as he stares right ahead of him.

Because to Tobio’s complete horror, Hinata is standing there, grinning, with the complete audacity to look _cute_.

“What are you doing here?” Tobio hisses. He can’t believe this.

“I came to see you!” Hinata says cheerily, a sunny smile on his face.

“You can’t be here,” Tobio says quickly, panicking, and he gets a hold of the door, his knuckles turning white. He tilts his head just to check, but Miwa must still be on the phone. If he can just get Hinata to leave— “You really, really can’t be here.”

Hinata’s face turns sour, a little offended, but there’s a great deal of confusion on his face. “What, why—”

Tobio rubs his hand over his face. It’s not uncommon for Hinata to come by his house unannounced, for either practicing or studying (honestly, rarely the latter, but he’s not going to admit it), and that’s never really been a problem before because Tobio’s usually alone. But _Miwa’s_ here, and if Hinata’s here, too, it can only end up in a disaster. Tobio shudders just thinking about it.

“You just can’t,” he says, frantic. He eyes the bag Hinata’s carrying over his shoulder, possibly filled with books and a volleyball. “We can go study some other time. I’ll set to you tomorrow. That sound good? Yeah? Amazing, right? Okay, you can go—”

“Kageyama, what are you saying, I don’t understand, could you just—”

“Tobio? Is someone at the door?” Miwa’s voice calls out, and Tobio freezes. His eyes widen, and he can’t find it in him to move. He listens as footsteps come closer, and his stomach drops, already knowing what’s about to happen.

Hinata looks even more confused. “Kageyama, who’s—”

Then Miwa is at the door next to Tobio, her eyes widening as she takes in Hinata, who stands across her looking just as surprised. Hinata looks between the two of them, back and forth, and Tobio can see the gears visibly turning in his head as he connects the two dots. Tobio can pinpoint the exact moment it happens, too, when his eyes widen, turning as big as saucers, and his mouth falls slightly open.

But then Hinata, as always when it comes to people, recovers quickly. “Are you Kageyama’s sister?” he blurts out, pointing right at Miwa.

Miwa raises an eyebrow in surprise. “Yeah,” she answers easily, with practiced ease and grace. She’s always been the more elegant one between the two of them. “Are you a friend of Tobio’s?”

Hinata seems to light up with her answer, turning immaculately bright with a beam directed right back up at the siblings. “I’ve always wanted to meet you!” he says excitedly. “I’m Hinata Shouyou! Kageyama—um, Tobio’s best friend!”

“Best friend, huh?” Miwa says, and she turns to Tobio with a questioning but teasing look, and Tobio just grumbles and looks away. “Well, it’s been a while since I met one of my brother’s friends. It’s nice to meet you too, Hinata-kun. I’m Miwa.”

Hinata nods. “From the stories, you sound really cool!”

Miwa blushes, just the lightest shade of pink, pleased. She looks at Tobio again, amused. “Tobio’s told you stories of me, has he now?” she says, and Tobio just groans. _This_ is why he never wanted them to meet—Miwa holds too many embarrassing memories of him, and Hinata is incredibly eager to hear them.

She gives him a pointed look. “Aren’t you going to invite Hinata-kun in?”

Tobio just glares at her, and turns back to Hinata, whose eyes are sparkling at the opportunity presented before him. “Alright, whatever, come in,” he mutters, stepping aside for Hinata to make his way in, toeing his shoes off and placing them at the side. Miwa tells them she’s going to head into the kitchen to make something, and it leaves the two of them standing in the hallway.

Hinata grins up at him. “Your sister!” he exclaims. “She’s here!”

“Obviously,” Tobio says, and he feels his cheeks warm up. “She came back with us after the wedding, and she’ll be staying another day.” Then, he narrows his eyes at Hinata. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming, dumbass?”

“It was supposed to be a surprise!” Hinata says, laughing to himself. “And besides,” he adds, adjusting the strap to his bag as he squints up at Tobio, “you wouldn’t have let me come if you knew.”

“How’d you figure that out?” Tobio says, glancing towards the direction of the kitchen. “I never expected this to happen.”

Hinata just hums, bouncing around on his toes as he examines the picture frames hung on the wall. There’s a couple of Tobio’s parents, one with the full family back when Tobio was younger, and another of him and Miwa. One of Kazuyo.

“Why didn’t you want me to meet her so badly, anyway?” Hinata asks Tobio as he looks at the picture of the siblings. “And it’s only fair, you know, you’ve met Natsu.”

“Natsu isn’t my older sister who can tell really embarrassing stories about me, dumbass,” Tobio retorts, and his face betrays him, turning warm. “And you _made_ me meet her! I didn’t ask!”

Hinata laughs, reminiscing at the memory. He looks like he’s about to say something, before his eyes catch on another picture frame, wooden and old. Tobio looks closer to see what it is, and finds himself, back when he was just starting school.

“Awww, Kageyama, look, you were so _cute_!” Hinata says, fawning over the photo. Tobio scoffs—he’s not even _smiling_ in that picture. He’s sure he has better ones, really. Then after a moment, Hinata turns back to him, raising an eyebrow and looking up and down, wearing the most shit-eating grin Tobio’s ever seen, and says, “What happened?”

Tobio wants to kill him.

He yells, trying to aim for Hinata’s stomach, but Hinata dodges just in time, barely missing the kidney swipe. Hinata’s laughter is uncontrollable, spilling out of him, as Tobio chases after him, running through the living room. He manages to grab Hinata’s arm, pulling him backwards, but then Hinata manages to loosen his hold by squeezing Tobio’s side, because he _knows_ Tobio’s ticklish there. With a yelp, Tobio tries to swipe at him again, just as Hinata pivots around him, ducking in time, and he manages to catch Tobio’s arm, and Tobio aims—

The sound of someone loudly clearing their throat has them both stopping in their tracks, embarrassed and putting all their arms back down, detangling themselves from one another. Hinata squeaks, taking a step away.

He points to Tobio. “He started it.”

Tobio squawks. “I did not!”

Hinata only grins, mostly because he likes being annoying. “Nuh-uh. You totally did.”

“No, I didn’t—”

“You _did!”_

“I didn’t—”

Tobio’s interrupted by Miwa’s laughter, her soft chuckles muffled up by a hand that’s covering her mouth. Her lips tilt upwards, amused, and Tobio flushes, feeling a little mortified.

“It’s nice to see someone can keep up with Tobio,” Miwa says after a moment, and Tobio fidgets where he stands. She looks at Hinata, smiling just a bit. “I’m guessing you’re on the volleyball team with him?”

Hinata nods fervently. “I’m a decoy!” he says, and Tobio’s happy to see the pride that colors his features, having long since accepted his role. He looks back at Tobio with a smile. “And he’s my setter!”

“Not just your setter, dumbass,” Tobio quips back, feeling his cheeks warm. _My_ setter—just who did Hinata think he was?

(Tobio’s not going to admit it makes him feel something. Of course not.)

“Tobio, don’t call him a— _oh_ ,” Miwa says, and something in Tobio’s stomach sinks as he watches the realization unfold on her face. This is going to be _terrible_. She turns to Hinata, a knowing grin on her face, and Tobio doesn’t like this one bit. “You’re _the_ dumbass, aren’t you? The one Tobio’s always talking about.”

Hinata blinks, clearly taken aback. “Uh.”

Tobio instantly regrets ever telling Miwa anything at all. He’s never going to do it again. “Oh my god.”

Miwa looks at her brother, gesturing at Hinata. “He is, isn’t he?”

He makes it a point not to look at her. “No comment.”

“Sorry,” Miwa says to Hinata, gentle. “I didn’t realize it was you. Tobio mostly just refers to you as _dumbass_ in his stories, so I couldn’t be sure, but he does mention you very often.”

Hinata still looks like his brain is struggling to catch up. “He does?” he asks, bewildered, whirling around to look at Tobio with wide eyes. Then he looks back at Miwa, a smile growing on his face. “He does? What kinda stuff does he say? Is it anything cool?”

Miwa places her hands on her hips. “Oh, it’s all good things,” she says with a wave. There’s just the slightest smirk to her lips. “ _Very_ good things.”

Tobio groans, burying his head in his hands. While he never mentioned actually having _feelings_ for Hinata to her, he knows that Miwa probably knows enough to figure out. She’s always been able to see right through him, and all Tobio can do is hope that he hasn’t talked about Hinata as much as he thinks he has.

“Mostly volleyball stuff, though,” she says, and relief instantly floods him. He must’ve spoken too soon, because her next words only add fuel to Hinata’s fire of pride. “But he says you’re one of the best players of the team. That means a lot, coming from _Tobio_ , I’m sure.”

Hinata lights up immediately, almost like a child on Christmas. His eyes are sparkling again. Smugly, he pokes Tobio at this side, “Oh, yeah? You think I’m a good player, _Tobio-kun?_ Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

“Because you get like _this_ , dumbass,” he retorts, rolling his eyes. “It all goes to your head and then you forget to actually spike the ball when it’s up.”

“What are—I didn’t—that was one time!”

Tobio gives him a look. “I’m sure I can count a handful of times.”

“They were _accidents—_ ”

“While I would love to tell you about all the things Tobio’s told me, Hinata-kun,” Miwa interrupts, but not unkindly. She picks up something from the table, and hooks a key ring around her finger, swinging it around before clasping it in her palm. “I’ve realized that we’re actually quite low on groceries, so I’ll be heading out. You’ll be staying for lunch, I’m assuming?”

Hinata beams, before bowing. “If that’s okay with you!”

Miwa just smiles again. “Of course it is.” She then turns toward Tobio. “Take care while I’m out. I won’t be gone long.”

Tobio nods, a little relieved as Miwa puts her shoes on, and exits the house, the door shutting softly behind her as she leaves. It’s just him and Hinata again, standing in the middle of the living room, and Tobio shifts in place.

“She’s so cool,” Hinata says, breaking the silence, his eyes bright on the brown. His expression turns smug again, and he wiggles his eyebrows, nudging Tobio with his elbow. “And you _talk_ about me! Kageyama, you talk about me! To your sister!”

Tobio turns flustered, looking away. “That’s only ‘cause you’re so stupid,” he manages to say, and does not think about how he’s probably told Miwa that he thinks Hinata’s been improving a lot, and that setting to him always feel different compared to setting to anyone else. He does not think about how people always talk about what they love, and doesn’t look over at Hinata, if only just to say to him secretly, _then I might just love you, if I mention you that often._

“Nah, I don’t believe it,” Hinata says with a grin, because he _knows_ , of course he does. “And Miwa-san said it was all good things! I trust her.”

“You’ve just met her! How can you know if she’s telling the truth?” Tobio says back, narrowing his eyes.

Hinata looks at him like it’s supposed to be obvious. “Because she’s your sister, duh,” he says. “And I trust _you_ , so. Simple as that.”

For a moment, Tobio remembers a time back in their first year, back when he’d only just started setting to Hinata. He remembers the first time, to see the excitement light up Hinata’s whole being, to toss the ball towards him and just knowing that he’d hit it. He remembers the way Hinata had closed his eyes, met the ball, and said, _I don’t know what else to do but trust you._ Tobio remembers that more than anything.

When Tobio doesn’t say anything else, Hinata takes it as his cue to inspect more of the photos that hang on the walls and on the mantle. He hops around, smiling wickedly whenever Tobio’s in the photos, his ever present frown striking his face.

“I didn’t get to see them up close before,” Hinata says softly, as he stops before a photo of Tobio and Miwa. It’s the one where she’s got a volleyball tucked under her arm, Tobio standing close by. Tobio knows that photo well. “You know, you guys look alike when you look closely.”

Tobio looks at their opposite expressions, and doesn’t quite see it. People have commented on that before, even more so when they were younger, but Tobio figures it must be a sibling thing, to not really be able to see the similarities. After all, when Tobio tried bringing it up to Hinata about him and Natsu, he’d denied it multiple times and said he couldn’t really see it. It must be the same thing.

He watches as Hinata moves from photo to photo, rolling his eyes when Hinata cackles at another photo of Tobio as a kid, and he’d especially had a fit of giggles over the one where a ball had fallen on his face in a misplaced attempt to toss. It goes on for a couple more minutes, until Tobio’s come to the point of just ignoring how undoubtedly flushed his face is, and deciding that they definitely have too many pictures hanging up around. He’s just about to head over to the kitchen and find something to eat, hopefully there’s still _something_ left, when Hinata calls out to him.

“Hey, Kageyama,” he says, voice much softer than usual, muted around the edges, and it piques Tobio’s curiosity. “Who’s this?”

Tobio tilts his head to look over, and finds Hinata standing in front of one of the smaller photos, stationed right on top of the mantle. Tobio feels himself go still when he realizes just which one Hinata’s referring to. His throat goes dry as he takes a couple more steps forward, and heaviness settles with every bit of movement.

In front of Hinata, in a simple black frame, is Kazuyo. He’s already pretty old in the photo, with wrinkles smudged by the side of his eyes, a bright smile on his lips, looking relaxed and easy, like he’d left all the troubles behind to let himself be captured by memory. He’d been sitting on the couch not too far from here, and Tobio remembers Miwa snapping the photo when she’d gotten her first phone. Tobio had been on his way to crawl into his lap, a ball in his hands. Kazuyo had laughed when he’d come over, and Tobio finds his bones aching.

“That’s my grandfather,” Tobio answers, his voice hoarse, his finger coming up to trace the frame. “Kazuyo-san.”

“Oh,” Hinata says, and he nods, as though he already understands what happened without Tobio having to say anything. It’s been years already, of course, and most of Tobio’s memories of Kazuyo are full of fondness and love and brightly-lit summer afternoons, but it still hurts sometimes, when he thinks about the ending. They knew it was coming, with the hospital visits getting more and more frequent, and Tobio had known to expect it, but… But how are you supposed to prepare for something like that? How are you supposed to ready yourself for that hollow feeling in his chest whenever you think of them? How are you supposed to deal with the fact that you’ll never see them again?

It felt like drowning, except there was no lifeboat, no lighthouse, no life vest. There was no one coming to save him.

(And then that all changed.)

“He taught me volleyball,” Tobio says, voice so incredibly small, and it feels as though his skin is being torn open, slowly, little by little. “He’s the reason why I play.”

“You don’t have to tell me,” Hinata tells him with a little smile, reassuring. “It’s okay.”

Tobio shakes his head. “I told you I would before, that I’d tell you one day,” he says, managing a weak and wobbly smile back. He’s not really sure why he’d chosen this moment, or why he’d promised it in the first place, but the words are moving along now. Maybe it has something to do with the way being honest makes him feel—he’s never told this story to anyone before, but he wants to tell Hinata. He wants Hinata to know, because he knows that Hinata would be the last person to pity him. He trusts Hinata.

And Tobio’s learned a thing or two about vulnerability—how odd is it, that it’s the first thing you ask from someone, but it’s the last thing you ever want to give? He wants to be able to give it. Hinata said he was willing to take it.

“When he…when he died,” Tobio manages to say, and it stings at his chest like the bitter aftertaste of coffee on his tongue, like the feeling of defeat after a game but more permanent than anything he’s ever felt. “When he died, I felt like I lost a part of me. He was always there. Even after Miwa quit volleyball, he still came to games with me, and he’d come watch me when he could. He… He meant a lot to me.”

Hinata nods, and he gently takes Tobio’s hand, warm and calloused hands wrapping around his own. “You loved him. And he loved you, I’m sure.”

Tobio nods. Then he takes a deep breath, knowing exactly what the next part of the story will be. He thinks Hinata knows a little bit of it too, and maybe he can sense what’s coming, with the way that his hold on Tobio’s hand tightens by just a fraction. With a shaky exhale, Tobio continues, closing his eyes briefly. “When he died, I threw myself into volleyball. It was the only way I knew how. It was the only way I thought I could—I could keep him with me.”

He opens his eyes to look at Hinata, his expression grim as he slightly winces, recalling the things that had haunted him for months. It’s been a while since it had hurt him, but some scars never truly leave, he supposes, even if they do fade with time.

“You know what happens next,” Tobio says, his lips pressed into a thin line. “I didn’t…I grew selfish. I thought that if—that if I could keep winning, it would make him proud of me. Maybe I thought that doing that would bring him back, in some way. But we both know how that went.”

His heart is heavy in his chest, and he wears the sadness thick on his shoulders, beating him down until his lungs are winded and weathered, struggling to keep up. This is always the hardest part, no matter how long it’s been. It doesn’t really affect him anymore, but thinking about it still unsettles him.

His emotions pool together in his chest, rising up like high tide, up and up and up his throat, right at the edge and threatening to spill out of him, out of his mouth, cascading their way out of his heart. And for so long, Tobio’s managed to swallow down the rising water, build the dam back up from the ground up, but this time he lets it rush through the cracks. It picks at the edges until it finally gives way, willingly broken, and Tobio stumbles in the debris. _Here it is,_ he thinks. _Here it goes. Here is everything._

“I was lonely for a really long time,” Tobio says, hollow, and he imagines being back there again, in the darkness of his burdens. Back when he’d tossed, only to find no one there. “And I thought that maybe that’s just what happens. Maybe some people are born sad.”

“But not you,” Hinata says almost immediately. He squeezes Tobio’s hand. “Never you,” he says, and the resolution in his tone grounds Tobio back, holding onto his voice like an anchor as the words bewilder him. A beacon of light. “You weren’t. I can tell from all these photos that you weren’t.”

Tobio doesn’t know what to say.

“You weren’t born sad, Kageyama,” Hinata tells him with a small smile. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe some people were, but I know that it’s not like that with you.” With a free hand, he gestures around them. “Just look at all these photos. You were a happy kid. You loved, and you were loved. I’m sorry you lost him, and I know it won’t ever stop hurting sometimes, but that doesn’t mean that it’s all you’ll ever be.”

Hinata’s hands find his again, rubbing smooth circles around the back of his hand. “I think,” Hinata says, taking a deep breath. “I think that you’ve always just loved better than other people. That’s why loving hurts so much.”

 _No,_ Tobio wants to say. _It doesn’t hurt. It doesn’t hurt when it’s you. Not really._

Tobio would take the hurt, if it meant he could have still have this. Ten thousand times over in ten thousand different lifetimes. He’ll take it. Because it led him here, to this moment, to this very breath, and Tobio would rather go through all of it again than to live a life without it. There’s no point if there’s no love at all. No love for volleyball, no love for his grandfather, no love for Hinata.

It will always be a love story.

Love for his grandfather, love for volleyball, love for Hinata Shouyou.

“I thought the only thing I had was volleyball,” Tobio says, so, so quiet that the words hang right in the stillness of the air, waiting to see what’ll be done with them. “I thought it was all I had. So when it happened, right when I thought I was losing it, there was something entirely new that came along.” He looks at Hinata when he says those last few words, right into his brown eyes, the same ones that hold the core of the sun.

Hinata’s eyes widen, and Tobio knows that he understands. They’ve reached the part where he fits into all this, like the perfect puzzle piece that’s been missing for years. “Oh,” he says.

Tobio takes a deep breath. “Yeah,” he says back, nodding slightly. For once, he doesn’t look away from Hinata. He lets the whirlpools cover his arms and his skin, lets the waves crash right through his eyes. He lets it all go. “You,” he says slowly, looking for the right words. “You saved my life once. You’re the only person who has ever been able to find me.”

And Hinata’s eyes widen, his grip on Tobio’s hand tighter than before. His eyes are so bright, and with Tobio’s confession it looks like he’s lit up from the inside, with bones made from neon and fire in his veins. It reminds Tobio of back then, when Hinata had drawn stars around his scar, just so that he would never lose his way. But Hinata’s the one who found him, not the other way around. Hinata found him, and he’s never been alone since. He’d broken through Tobio’s guard when he was in safety mode and never left.

Tobio had barely even believed in love anymore. But Hinata had come along to make an exception.

It’s another heartbeat before Hinata is wrapping his arms around Tobio to pull him into a bone-crushing hug, and Tobio buries his face in Hinata’s red hair, as he feels Hinata press his forehead against his chest.

“Thank you,” Tobio murmurs, and it’s all he’s wanted to say all along. He knows he’ll probably never be able to express his gratitude enough, he’ll never be able to find all the right words, but he has a feeling Hinata can tell. He’s always been able to. “Thank you for finding me.”

“No, you big dummy,” Hinata says, his voice crumpling like he’s on the verge of tears. “I’m sorry I didn’t find you earlier.”

Tobio just hugs him a little tighter, and hoping that Hinata will know what he means. _But you found me anyway,_ he thinks, _and that’s more than enough._

(And this, he remembers, is why he can never risk losing Hinata.)

After a moment, Hinata lets go, stepping back, and wiping the tears from his eyes. He aims a wobbly smile at Tobio, his cheeks stained red and his eyes a little puffy. “I can’t believe you made me cry,” he says, laughing a little through his sniffles. “I’m supposed to be a _guest_ here. What will your sister think?”

“I didn’t—I didn’t do it on purpose!” Tobio exclaims, offended. “You little—I tell you all of that and you—”

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” Hinata says in between giggles, holding his hands up in surrender. Then he wrings his hands together, and bounces a little on his toes, face losing the teasing expression and shifting into something a bit more serious, but a little sweet too. “Thank you for telling me,” he says, honesty bleeding out, his smile sincere. “You didn’t have to, but you did. So thank you.”

Tobio nods, and he glances back at the picture of Kazuyo. Most of his memories of his grandfather are bleached and faded yellow into the warm sun, little sunny things that he remembers—more happy than they are sad. He clings to those instead, to the love and the warmth, and it’s better than anything else. It smoothes his heart out, and helps him breathe easy.

Turning back to Hinata, Tobio figures he’s had to deal with enough emotions for one day, and says, “Do you wanna go practice outside?”

Hinata beams. “Obviously,” he says, grinning. Then without a word of warning, he takes off running, towards the direction of the back door. “Last one there has to buy meat buns tomorrow!”

“Oi—” Tobio says before he’s running to. All the tension vanished into thin air, and even while he’s yelling insults at Hinata’s back, he can’t help the soft laugh he breathes into the air, feeling a little lighter. He smiles to himself, and thinks that maybe he’s finally learned how to float.

Miwa corners Shouyou just after lunch, when Kageyama leaves to go to the bathroom. He’d stomped away just as they’d reached the elementary photos in the album Miwa was showing Shouyou, face incredibly red as he muttered something along the lines of stupid sisters and stupid best friends. Shouyou had laughed, absolutely delighted and loving every bit of it. He’s been taking pictures on his phone, too, of the ones where Kageyama is being especially adorable and/or embarrassing, if only just to tease the setter about it.

She turns to him just as the door shuts properly, a serious expression on her face that reminds Shouyou all too much of her younger brother. He’d meant what he said earlier—they really do look alike, in his opinion. From the dark hair to the thin lips, even the sky eyes—perhaps it’s a Kageyama thing to be beautiful, Shouyou thinks to himself. They don’t seem to be all that much for words either.

“Hinata-kun,” Miwa says, and Shouyou knows that he doesn’t really have anything to be nervous about, and that it shouldn’t really feel like he’s getting a _talk_ of sorts, because he and Kageyama aren’t even dating and probably never will, isn’t that funny? But he can’t help it—his stomach has always been one of his weaker points, even if he doesn’t get all that nervous at games anymore—this feels like a whole new different ball game, and Shouyou feels anxious about it. He’s always thought he was good with people, but this is _Kageyama Miwa,_ and she isn’t just anyone. She’s Kageyama’s sister, and he cares what she thinks because he cares about what Kageyama thinks.

“Yeah?” he says, hoping he sounds casual enough, removing his eyes from the photo of Kageyama in his pre-school uniform. He looked so cute.

“You said you were Tobio’s best friend, didn’t you?” she asks him, and Shouyou thinks he knows how it feels, to ask around about your sibling’s friends. He’d done it with Natsu’s friends before. “He talks about you a lot.”

Shouyou feels his face grow warm over that all over again. Kageyama talks about him? To his _sister?_ He wants to know what’s been said, to get a glimpse of how Kageyama views him when he’s talking to other people. What does he sound like? What is the shape of his words?

“But as I’ve said, they’re all good things,” she says reassuringly, and her smile looks so much like Kageyama’s that Shouyou isn’t really sure what to make of it. “Don’t tell him I said this, but he seems very… _fond_ of you. He likes you.”

Shouyou’s heart blooms to hear it. “That’s good,” he says, and he can still remember the look on Kageyama’s face back when Shouyou told him that he was his best friend. It’s that same feeling in his chest when Kageyama told him the same thing back.

“I don’t know how much Tobio has told you,” Miwa says slowly, looking a little hesitant. There’s something a little softer on her features now, a bit mellow. It’s sadness, Shouyou realizes. “But he’s never had many friends, and especially after our grandfather died…”

“He was lonely,” Shouyou finishes for her, nodding. If he focuses, he can still feel the sting in his heart, the prickling of tears in his eyes when Kageyama had told him all about it earlier. He hopes that Kageyama knows that it means just as much to him too—that he’d helped pick Shouyou up, and believed in him when no one did, when everyone else told him to quit even before the game started. Kageyama was there from the start, the first one to ever set to him, and Shouyou isn’t sure where he’d be now if it wasn’t for him. Maybe, in another life, they would’ve been more lucky and met earlier. Maybe they’d found each other when they were kids, and they never had to go through all those things alone.

“He told me,” Shouyou explains, nodding a little, pressing his lips together. His fingers fumble with one another messily on his lap. “It couldn’t have been easy for you either, Miwa-san.”

She shakes her head. “No,” she says slowly. “It wasn’t. But Tobio… He was always closer to Kazuyo-san than I was, and when he died, he took it _hard_. I’d never seen him like that before. I didn’t know how to help him, and I wasn’t there all the time. I don’t think he’d ever been lonelier. Even volleyball didn’t seem to help.”

Shouyou nods. It brings an ache to his chest when he tries to imagine what it must’ve been like for Kageyama. There’s no way it was easy, and he knows he can never really feel all of it—that what he pictures could only be a fragment of what it was truly like. Shouyou was never completely alone, not like Kageyama had been, when he’d almost lost volleyball too.

“When Tobio called me one time, two years ago, that the kid who he played against during one of his middle school matches was now his teammate, I didn’t really expect much from it,” Miwa admits, a loose smile on her lips. “But then you two became friends.”

She lets out a deep breath. “And I was really surprised to hear that, you know? And to hear it was that same kid, of all people, who was now his partner, who raced with him to school almost everyday, who he called a dumbass often and said didn’t have a lot of skills, but could jump higher than he’d ever seen—it made me feel so _relieved._ It meant that Tobio finally found someone who could keep pace.” Miwa smiles at him, genuine and sincere. “He sounded happier than he’d been in a long time.”

“Oh,” is all Shouyou’s able to say. He blinks, letting her words replay over and over in his head, feeling his heart stutter in his chest, tripping over its shoelaces without learning how to tie them back up.

“And it’s all because of you,” she says softly. Her eyes are of the gentle rain, washing over him kindly. “It’s you, and all the people who stumbled their way into my brother’s life. Because you were stubborn enough to stay and give him a chance, maybe even a second and a third, because I know he can be difficult sometimes. So thank you,” Miwa says. “Thank you for sticking around and seeing it through. It means a lot to me.”

Shouyou nods. “It means a lot to me too,” he breathes out. “Kageyama—Tobio, he means a lot to me too. I owe him a lot. He’s my best friend.”

Maybe it has something to do with people, Shouyou thinks, and how they find each other. How, at the end of the day, all people have are other people.

Miwa nods in understanding. “I’m glad you two found each other.”

Shouyou grins. “Me, too,” he says, and his heart feels as though it’s skyrocketing into the sky before floating in the atmosphere, up and high in the clouds without being afraid of falling. There’s clear blue all around him, and he breathes it all in.

Kageyama enters back into the room just then, the sound of the bathroom door distantly clicking closed, stumbling back into the area. He glances at the two of them, at the slightly glassy eyes on Shouyou’s face and the wobbly smile on Miwa’s lips, and gives them a suspicious look.

“What were you two talking about,” Kageyama demands, narrowing his eyes as he takes his place back, filling in the spot next to Shouyou. He glances at the album laid in Shouyou’s lap, and squints at one of the photos, and points at it. Looking at Shouyou, he says, his expression pinched, “Whatever story she told you about this picture isn’t true.”

Miwa laughs. “Oh, and what, you didn’t get hit with a volleyball to the face in your first game?”

Shouyou immediately looks at the photo. It’s of Kageyama in a volleyball uniform, the number _12_ written on the front. _Tobio’s first game with the_ _Little Falcons,_ the caption reads below in neat handwriting. Shouyou giggles at the expression on Kageyama’s little face, his cheeks chubby, his lips pressed together in a pleased manner, his eyes lighting up in excitement.

“I did not!” Kageyama exclaims.

“I was there, Tobio. I _saw_ it.”

“You didn’t see shit.”

“Do you really want me to bring out the video camera? Is that it?”

Shouyou can’t help it—he bursts out laughing, trying to imagine it happening. Miwa follows suit, and Kageyama grumbles, his face turning more and more red with each passing moment. Shouyou laughs until he can hardly breathe, clutching at his stomach, and his cheeks hurt so much.

“Shut up, dumbass,” Kageyama mutters, but Shouyou only grins wickedly, patting him on the back.

“It’s okay, Kageyama-kun,” he teases. “It happens to the best of us. Now you can’t make fun of me because of that anymore!”

“Oh my _god,”_ Kageyama says, and he buries his head in his hands, the tips of his ears burning red.

It causes Shouyou to laugh again. They spend the rest of the afternoon like that, the three of them tucked on the couch as Miwa presents photo album after photo album, and Shouyou giggles every time another embarrassing story about Kageyama is laid before him, presented in heavy and hilarious detail. And with Kageyama pressed close next to him, their shoulders touching, Shouyou can’t help but love every second of it.

The days trickle by quickly, the future taking quick steps towards Shouyou’s door. In just a few months, it’ll come knocking around, and Shouyou won’t have any other choice but to face it.

Recently, Coach Ukai has been taking him to meet up with different people, to see what information they can learn about what he can do to play beach volleyball, but there really isn’t much of an opportunity for him. He’s thankful, of course, because he’s not sure if this plan would even be possible without all of Ukai’s connections, but there really isn’t too much to go on. But once there’s a chance, even the slightest one, Shouyou will take it.

It comes to him in the winter.

After the first-years come back from the training camp with Nationals not too far away, Ukai calls Shouyou into Takeda’s office, a serious expression on his face. Shouyou feels nervous, but he’s brimming with hope around the edges. He’s thought about this a lot already, and it’s the only way he could think of, if he wanted to be able to do everything. It’s the only way he can improve.

“I spoke to Coach Washijo of Shiratorizawa,” Ukai begins, clasping his hands together. “He says one of his former students switched from indoor to beach, and is now coaching a team of his own.”

Shouyou’s heart inflates at the implications of the coach’s words. Could that mean he’s found someone…?

“Hinata-kun,” Ukai says, his voice turning stern. “You have to be completely sure about this. It’s not going to be easy.”

“I know,” Shouyou says. He never expected it to be, and he knows that it’s not a common occurrence, and it’s sudden, but it’s what his mind and heart are telling him to do.

Ukai nods, as though he feels Shouyou’s resolve. Then he sits back, and takes a deep breath, leveling his eyes right up against Shouyou’s. “His name is Katou Lucio. He’s willing to teach you, or to let you stay with him. But,” Ukai says, words as heavy as concrete. “He lives in Rio.”

“I’ll go!” Shouyou says instantly. He plants his hands firmly on the table, determined.

Takeda stammers, “Hinata-kun, you understand that Rio is in Brazil, right? You would have to travel there, and live there for a few months, maybe even a year or two—”

“I’ll do it!” Shouyou says. He looks to both of his teachers. “Please,” he tells them. “If this is how I can improve, then I’ll do it.”

Ukai nods, and Shouyou knows that he’s already agreed. “Next week, I’ll take you to see Coach Washijo. He said he has things he wants to discuss with you if you’re sure.”

“Thank you!” Shouyou says, and he stands up to bow, shutting his eyes tight, and letting the words settle in him. _Rio. Brazil._ That’s a whole different continent. He’ll have to learn a new language, and practice his English. It’ll be a whole different world, a different life, and Shouyou will do everything he can to prepare for it. He has to.

Washijo agrees, but with the condition that he takes a year after graduation to prepare properly, and he tells Shouyou that he has a limit of two years. In that time, he’ll need to soak in everything he can, learn as much as possible. He’ll have to make the most of it.

The realization hits him just then, that this is no longer an idea or a dream, but an actual thing he’s going to be able to do. This is the plan for his future. This is where his road will lead him. This is how it’s going to happen.

Shouyou thanks him, and he knows that he owes the old man greatly. He wouldn’t be able to do this if it weren’t for him, and he’ll make sure that he doesn’t let him down. Shouyou won’t let _himself_ down. He’ll reach greater heights, and learn to do everything he can. He’ll see the sun this time, on his own. He’ll get it right.

This is just the first step up the ladder.

The first people Shouyou tells are his family. Surprise colors Natsu’s features when he announces it, until she realizes that he’s going to _Brazil,_ and she just ends up whining about how she wants to go too. She says that it isn’t fair that he gets to go when she wants to see the carnivals and the costumes, too, and Shouyou just laughs and promises that he’ll bring her back souvenirs. His mom smiles at him, embracing him tightly, and already without words Shouyou knows he has her approval.

He tells Yachi next, and she nearly bursts into tears. He’d mentioned it to her once, that he wanted to do beach volleyball, but he doesn’t think she really got it, and he didn’t really clarify back then. But now she knows, and she’s got a wobbly smile on her face, telling him that he better come back, and not die, because she’d really like to see him again.

“I’m not leaving yet,” he tells her reassuringly. “There’s still a lot of time.”

“I guess we both aren’t just Villager B’s anymore,” she says, a familiar smile on her lips. She’s told Shouyou about her plans for college, to get into design and hopefully learn a thing or two from working at her mom’s company. It seems like a lot of work, but Shouyou knows she’ll be just fine.

“Yeah,” he says, nodding, and his eyes turn back to the sky, where his world is just about to become even bigger.

After that, he tells Yamaguchi when they’re out having lunch together, in the middle of sharing a plate of fries. Yamaguchi pauses mid-bite, a fry hanging out his mouth as he stares at Shouyou. It drops back into the plate when he opens his mouth to beam with pride.

“Really?” he says in disbelief, and Shouyou nods. “Hinata, that’s amazing! That’s so cool!”

“Thanks!” Shouyou says, and he’s grinning widely too, and even after he’s repeated it so many times in his head, his heart still feels like it’s going to burst—a mix of excitement and nervousness he can’t get enough of, like the thrill of a game.

Yamaguchi must tell Tsukishima before Shouyou even gets to, because Tsukishima corners him the very next day, asking if it’s true, and Shouyou says yes. He then takes Shouyou by the ear and aggressively says that he’s going to give Shouyou English lessons just to make sure he doesn’t get himself killed while he’s in Brazil. Shouyou grins, because he knows enough by now to tell that it’s just Tsukishima’s way of showing he cares, and that Tsukishima, once you get past all the sarcasm and sharp tongue, actually has a marshmallow center.

“Have you told Kageyama?” Tsukishima asks hesitantly, a pinched expression on his face, like he’s not really sure why he’s asking in the first place.

Shouyou shakes his head. “No,” he says, with a little sad smile. Something squirms uncomfortably in his stomach. “I don’t…I don’t really know how.”

Tsukishima looks surprised. “Oh. I expected him to be the first to know,” he explains, adjusting his glasses. “Considering how, er, close and competitive you two are about…well, everything.”

Shouyou shrugs. “I _was_ going to tell him, but then I thought about it, and…” he says, toeing his shoe on the ground. “I couldn’t find the right words.”

He’s telling the truth. When he thought about telling people, the first face that had come to mind was Kageyama’s. He was Shouyou’s best friend after all, and he’s always the first one he wants to tell about interesting things. But for some reason, the very thought of it had stopped him in his tracks, and whenever he tried planning the words out, or when he tried saying them out loud while Kageyama was with him, nothing ever seemed to come out. It isn’t that he’s afraid of disapproval, or what Kageyama says will affect his decision—because nothing can change Shouyou’s mind about this. He’s _going,_ and he won’t let anything stop him. So, then…why? Why is it so hard for him to do it?

Shouyou doesn’t know.

Tsukishima looks away. The sunlight makes his hair turn golden, like a halo around his head. “You two have never really been much for words to begin with,” he says, wincing, but it’s a lot more soft than Shouyou’d ever expected from him. “You’ll figure it out, in the annoying way of yours.”

Shouyou blinks. Is Tsukishima reassuring him? Is that what’s happening right now? “Aw, Tsukishima, you do care about me!” he says, grinning. “We _are_ friends!”

“Shut up, we’re not,” Tsukishima snaps at him, his ears tinted pink at the tips. He looks away. “Whatever. Bring a notebook to the club room tomorrow, I’m gonna quiz you, since you’re clearly overworking Yachi already.”

Shouyou doesn’t even rise to the bait. Instead, he grins, and figures that the last three years together did amount to something great, despite the roughness of how they began. Over time, they’ve learned to grow around each other, finding the balance between prickly and gentle. It was never easy at the start.

For a moment, Shouyou thinks about friendships that last a lifetime. He thinks about just how far they’ve all come, where they started and where they are now. He thinks about all the afternoons they’ve spent practicing late, all the trips to Sakanoshita, all the strategies they’ve poured over and the games they’ve devoted themselves to. He thinks about how volleyball brought them all together, but it’s more than that now that ties them together. He hopes that it never has to end.

Now he just needs to figure out how to tell Kageyama.

“Okay, everyone! Gather around!” Yachi says, and she hands her phone off to one of the first-year managers, grinning. She plants her hand on Shouyou’s back, pushing him in the right direction, and tugs Tsukishima by the arm sleeve with the other. She positions them around the same area, then goes back to drag Kageyama from the other side of the court to awkwardly stand by Tsukishima’s right.

Yamaguchi jogs over, smiling crookedly, before positioning himself in between Kageyama and Yamaguchi. He claps his hands against Shouyou when he comes over, right before completing a series of complicated moves—the handshake they’ve perfected over the years. Shouyou beams right up at him, feeling successful.

Yachi looks over at them, a hand over her chin. She glances over the shoulder of the first-year holding her phone, and adjusts the camera in her hand. “Yeah, okay,” she says, squinting. “Tsukishima and Kageyama are gonna be too tall in the frame. You guys should crouch. Yamaguchi, you should probably bend a bit too.”

A little disgruntled, Shouyou watches as Kageyama and Tsukishima do what they’re told, stiff and awkward. Yamaguchi happily claps a hand around each of their shoulders, and Shouyou tries to snicker when he sees the light pink that graces Tsukishima’s cheeks at the touch. Satisfied, Yachi heads over to where they are, smiling excitedly.

“Where do you want to stay, Hinata?” Yachi asks him, glancing back at the other three. She positions herself in front of Yamaguchi, sitting down on the floor.

Shouyou just grins, and lies on his side on the ground before her, and throws his hands out. “Ready!” he exclaims.

“Okay!” the first-year says, holding out the phone with a steady hand. “Three, two, one!”

As the flash goes off, Hinata puts on the biggest smile he can, shifting his hands to hold a rock symbol up in the air, nearly falling over. After holding it for another moment, he lets himself topple forward face-front to the floor, and lets out a little “oof.” He can hear Kageyama snicker behind him as he pushes himself back up, dusting himself off.

Yachi squeals as she looks over at the picture. “It’s perfect!” she exclaims, grinning widely. Shouyou wastes no time before he runs over to her to take a peak of the photo. His smile widens when he sees it—at the awkward look on Kageyama’s face, the disinterest in Tsukishima’s, and the pride on Yamaguchi’s. Yachi’s eyes are squeezed shut as she throws up a piece sign, and Shouyou thinks he himself looks kinda funny. Yachi was right, he thinks—it’s _perfect._

“Oooh, send it to me, send it to me!” Shouyou tells her, bouncing on his toes, his fists bunched together. “I’m gonna make it my wallpaper!”

Yachi laughs, a soft, tinkling sound. “I will, I will,” she says as she taps on a couple buttons, sending it to their group chat. “I’ll set it as my wallpaper too, we can be matching!”

“I’ll do it too!” Yamaguchi says as he picks his phone out of his pocket. Shouyou does the same thing—setting it as his lockscreen, and feeling pleased about how well it looks there.

“Kageyama, change yours too!” Shouyou says, and he hops over to where his best friend is standing, his phone in his hand. Without a word of warning, he snatches it from Kageyama’s hand, pulling up his messages and saving the photo. But just before he changes the wallpaper, he finds what Kageyama has currently set as his homescreen: a photo of the two of them, from when they’d gone to an arcade and visited a photo booth. They’d allowed digital copies, and Shouyou has his own, of course, but he didn’t know that Kageyama had saved it as one of his wallpapers. He’s careful to keep it as the homescreen, and sets the picture of the five of them as his lockscreen. “There you go,” he says, handing it back, and Kageyama rolls his eyes, but not before muttering a quiet _thanks_.

Yamaguchi seems to be convincing Tsukishima to do it too, the two of them huddled close over his phone. Once they’re finished, Shouyou grins, and his heart feels incredibly full. The underclassmen also seem to be taking the opportunity to take their own photos—they’d taken one of the whole team earlier—while the others begin packing up and cleaning the gym.

Stepping a little closer to the open door, Shouyou breathes in the cold evening air, letting it into his lungs and chilling him down to his bones. His breath puffs out in smoke, and he looks up at the sky, at the twinkling stars staring right back down at him, whispering secrets that he won’t hear until years and years have passed. They tend to do that, he thinks, only tell you things once you already know them.

Standing there by the doorway, Shouyou is instantly reminded of all the other times that he’s done this, just to look up at the sky. Maybe he does it because it’s grounding, because it reminds him that he has a place in this world, even if it’s small. That even if his name won’t quite be written down in history like all the ancient greats, he was here, once. He walked this earth, he ate, he slept, he breathed. He played volleyball. He flew. And he will keep playing.

_I am, I am, I am._

He remembers when it was raining, back in his first-year. He’d wondered if the rain was a message from the sky, if it missed the ground so much to send all its love down. It seems so far away, like an old faded memory, and he wonders just when he’d grown up. Back when it was simpler, when nothing ever left him scarred—he’d grown up without knowing it.

Turning back to face the gym, Shouyou is instantly hit with a sharp pang in his chest. A nostalgic longing, for all the days past, for all the time that he’s lost. All year he’s tried taking pictures in his mind just to keep the memories close: his childhood room, the flickering lights of the club room, the classrooms, the school’s rooftop, the gym where he’s learned everything he knows. He’s dedicated himself to memorizing what it sounds like when his mom gets home from work, the sound of Natsu’s footsteps running through the halls, the sound of volleyballs hitting the ground of the gym—but not just any gym, _this_ gym, Karasuno’s gym. He memorized all of Yachi’s favorite songs, dedicated a good portion to keeping Yamaguchi’s exact Mario Kart playing style in his mind, and learned the introduction to Tsukishima’s favorite documentary, just to annoy him when he recites it from memory out of nowhere. He’s memorized just the right way Kageyama loves pork curry with egg, the sound of every inflection and cadence in his voice, how many times he spins the ball in his hands before coming up for a serve. He’s put all of these things together, compiled them into his mind, and tells himself, _remember. Remember all that you can. Don’t you dare let them go._

Because the thing is, the most horrible part of it all, is that he’d realized, with sharp clarity, that someday, all he has will be gone.

And that’s why he needs to remember it all. Carve it into his memory so that he never, ever forgets. Because even if it’s just high school, even if it seems insignificant in the grand scheme of things, it mattered to him. It mattered to Hinata Shouyou. It’s what made up his days and his hours and his minutes, and it’s the little wonders that make everything better. And isn’t that just cruel? That time had slipped away from him even when he tried to catch it, stealing from him ever so slowly, and only leaving behind the realization that he will never have this again. That the only thing he can do is to keep as much of it possible.

So he takes a deep breath, puts everything into memory, and hopes that it will be enough. He hopes that two, three, five years down the line he will still remember, even when the details get blurry and his heart is filled with a yearning for the past. He hopes that he will remember enough, remember that this was what his life was like before he had it all figured out. He hopes that his high school self will never really leave him no matter where he goes, and that he won’t forget everything that he’s come to love.

He won’t lose it.

“What are you staring at?” Kageyama asks, and it feels all so familiar, the way he stands next to Shouyou, peering out the door. There he goes again, Shouyou thinks, Kageyama and his sky-eyes. How they always seem to reflect the world above them, tiny flecks of silver to mimic the stars above. Not for the first time, Shouyou thinks about the whole universe that lives in his eyes, waiting to be released. “There’s nothing there.”

“There’s the snow,” Shouyou says, mostly just to repeat everything. He shrugs. “And I was just thinking, mostly.”

“About what?” Kageyama asks, just the lightest smile on his lips. In that moment, Shouyou encounters the possibility that this, too, is something he might lose. That before all the feelings, before the crushes and the longing stares and the pining, there was this—the easy friendship, the casualness, the light bickering. There was this friendship, and it had never quite occurred to him that he could lose this one day too. He’d thought about lifelong friendships before, when he’d told the others about his plans to go to Brazil, but with Kageyama, it’s…it’s different. It’s always been different with Kageyama. It’s always meant a little _more_ , despite all the love that Shouyou had learned to grow for him. It’s always been something else.

“All of this,” Shouyou says, gesturing all around them. “How it’ll change, how it _is_ changing, and how we’ll never get it all back again.”

Kageyama seems to pause for a moment, glancing up at the sky before turning back to look at Shouyou with a soft gaze. He nods, and Shouyou knows that he feels it too. The days slipping by them like faded memories, and they’ll be standing at the finish line before they know it. Isn’t that a little odd, that before all he wanted to do was run and run and run, and now all he’s asking is for time to slow down just a bit?

“Then we’ll play as many games as we can tomorrow,” Kageyama says, with that simple certainty he always carries. “We’ll make it last for as long as we can. That way, we can hold onto it a little longer. We make it as far as we can.”

Shouyou nods, and feels his bones fill with a resolve greater than anything else he’s ever held. A part of him can’t believe that Nationals are already tomorrow. It’ll be the last few games he’ll ever play with this team, with Kageyama by his side in close proximity. It’ll be the last time he’ll ever be able to wear the black Karasuno jersey into a proper game, the number 5 emblazoned on his back. He’s going to make the most of all he can, grab the spotlights, and take the crown. He’ll make it a grand finale no one will want to miss— _Karasuno, no longer the fallen crows._ They haven’t been for a while now.

“And when it ends,” Shouyou says, tilting his head upward, more determined than ever. “We’ll make sure we have no regrets.”

Kageyama smiles, agreeing. Then his expression turns a little softer, with a look that Shouyou can’t quite decipher, and the moonlight is gentle in his eyes. “Not everything has to change,” Kageyama says quietly, and he’s looking directly at Shouyou, his gaze steady. “Not all of it.”

He takes another breath, taking a step closer. “Not this.”

And in that moment, Shouyou understands what he’s trying to say. They’ve always been good at this, at understanding each other even without the most concrete words, and it’s always been easy for him to know what Kageyama is trying to say, hidden underneath. That _this_ , this friendship, partnership, rivalry—it doesn’t have to change. Just because their time at Karasuno is over doesn’t mean that the time between the two of them has to end. They can still be the way they are, even with how the future plays out. They can still bicker and fight and argue and race and text. It doesn’t have to change. And maybe, Shouyou thinks, that this in-between unrequited love that only he knows about, won’t be changing all that much either.

“Promise?” Shouyou says, just to have something substantial to hold on to. He’s always believed that saying something out loud always makes it more real than it feels. It gives it a proper weight to carry with you.

Kageyama nods, not hesitating for a moment. “Promise,” he says back. Maybe that’s the thing with the two of them, that they’ll always make promises they don’t know if they can keep, and it’ll always center around the first one they’d ever made. The one they called invincibility, back before they truly knew what it took to earn it, and the one that they always keep coming back to at the end of the day.

For a moment, Shouyou wonders if promises can stretch miles and miles, over valleys and over mountains, all the way to a different continent. He wonders if the distance will hold anything above them, if it will chip away at their words. If they will lose something when all that they will have to connect them are phone lines and video calls, if it’ll be as they hope or not. How strong does a promise have to be, to be able to conquer all that distance? What are the right words to make it? Will there still be beautiful things at the end of it all?

Shouyou figures that the only thing they can do is wait and find out.

With one last look at the sky, Shouyou glances back at Kageyama, watching the way the world seems a little brighter with him in it, as though he’s enhancing his surroundings just by existing. It’s fitting, he thinks, for a king. Kageyama Tobio’s always been meant to rule the skies.

He looks back at the gym, where the underclassmen are laughing around as they pack up their belongings, where the other three third-years are caught in a light conversation, teasing and making jokes as usual. He breathes it all in, and commits it to memory, just like he’s been doing every day for the last year. With Kageyama’s words to strengthen his resolve, Shouyou settles on seeing just how grand tomorrow will play out, and he’ll go from there. He’ll see where the road takes him, or how many games they’ll be able to play. He’ll see it as they go. Karasuno’s always been best at improvising, after all.

And with the three years that have passed, Shouyou knows he’s learned from the best. _Tomorrow,_ he thinks. _We’ll be the sky._

Heart thundering in his chest, Shouyou bends his knees into the proper receiving position, feeling the sweat cling to him like a second skin. The deafening roar of the crowd surrounds him from all sides, the beat of drums against his heart, quickening and changing. With the rest of the team around him, Shouyou can’t help but feel excited, the spotlights all on them as they stand on the orange floor. It feels surreal, like something out of a dream. Maybe that’s because it is, a lot like what a little boy had seen while riding his bike, the same scene splayed out on a television screen. That’s what this is—a dream coming to life, a proper ending.

They’ve made it. The center court.

This is where Shouyou had seen the Little Giant fly for the first time. And even if he’s long stopped chasing that shadow, he’ll forever be grateful for how it brought him here. This is still everything he wanted, back when he was just a little smaller, and Shouyou wants to do his old dream justice and make his younger self proud. He wants to say, _look, look at how far we’ve come. Look at where you started. Look at where you are now. Let’s see how much farther we can go._

With the sound of the whistle, the crowd falls silent, and Shouyou waits for the game to begin. He listens for the telltale signs of Kageyama coming up to serve, spinning the ball six times in his hands before throwing it up into the air. A killer serve, just as it had been three years ago, only sharpened and honed to perfection now, almost as familiar as Shouyou’s own name. He’s been on the receiving end of it enough times that it’s incredibly powerful, a hurricane in the making.

The ball is up in the air, and Kageyama strikes it down like lightning. The thunder follows suit not too shortly after, the sound rippling throughout the court, hitting the ground with enough force to bounce back up, untouched. A service ace.

The whistle blows, and the crowd erupts into cheers, the drums beating loudly once more. Karasuno’s members grin at each other as the tension melts away slowly, and they relax their stances—enough to keep their guard up, but not too much to make them stiff. Shouyou catches Kageyama’s eye when he tilts his head back, beaming wildly, and he lets out a loud whoop. Yamaguchi pats Kageyama on the back, saying it was a good one, and Tsukishima looks the slightest bit pleased. From the sides, Shouyou can see Yachi, excited and happy for what’s to come.

Kageyama heads to the back of the court once more, the ball in his hand. Shouyou counts the beats as he imagines Kageyama spinning it, his storm-eyes wild with determination, and the ball gets thrown up into the air once more. He slams it down, but Itachiyama’s libero reacts just in the nick of time—sending it back up and towards the setter.

Shouyou moves on instinct as the ball is tossed, running up quickly to block it, feeling its sting against his palm as it falls backward. There’s a bit of a rally after that—set, spike, block, receive, set, spike—and Shouyou feels high on the adrenaline, keeping him alive. When the ball goes back up on their side of the court, Shouyou doesn’t even need to look at Kageyama to tell him he’s going to be there, running towards the other side of the court. He jumps, flying high, but his hand meets nothing but air, and Tsukishima spikes the ball from the other end of the net. That’s his job, after all—to be the greatest decoy.

The ball falls to the ground. It’s another point scored.

They cheer again, bunching up together to hold their fists up for another, and Kageyama grins at Shouyou from the other end, a pleased smirk on his lips. He walks back behind the line, the ball still in his arms, and Shouyou feels excitement thrum within him, flowing like the blood in his veins. He’ll never get enough of it.

The ball goes up again, and Shouyou’s heart soars. They score the next point with one of their quicks, nearly invincible now over the years, and Shouyou’s palm stings, an itch that’s been calmed, and it feels so incredibly familiar that it’s comforting. They’re poetry in motion, fluid and smooth and precise, done a million times over. This is so fun, he thinks to himself. He never wants it to end.

But it has to eventually.

The ball is spiked by Itachiyama’s ace, and Shouyou isn’t able to react in time before it hits the ground, the sound reverberating in his ears, an echo of what it truly means this time around. The game is over, it tells him. It’s finally over.

This is where his high school volleyball games come to an end. This had been his last, and Karasuno had gotten as far as they ever did with Yamaguchi at the head. Despite everything, despite the usual sting of loss and the drop of his stomach, Shouyou is proud of how far they’ve come. He’s proud to see the people they’ve become, the strategies they’ve built, the plays they’ve come up with. And just like the upperclassmen before him, Shouyou knows that there are pieces of them that they will leave behind for the next generation to take, to change and grow and call their own.

Trying to steady his breathing, Shouyou wipes the sweat off his face with the towel Yachi had handed to him, taking large gulps of water from his yellow bottle. He looks back at the court, at that grand stage he’d longed for for so long, and feels something satisfied settle in his chest. He did the best he could, and so did the rest of this team. You can only get so far with luck alone, and he knows that smother skills they’ve sharpened are the swords they carried with them to battle. And the armor they wear, they hold the memories and stories of past plays and past experiences. He holds his head up high. They’ve proven that this team means something, that they’re _worth_ something. No one will ever overlook them ever again.

Kageyama walks over to stand by him, and with one single nod, Shouyou understands. _This is it,_ Kageyama says. _We made it. That was all there was_.

And Shouyou was right, in the end—he doesn’t have a single regret.

With reassuring words gently placed on his tongue, Shouyou pats the underclassmen on the back, a half-formed speech about pride rolling out of his mouth, and tears prick at the corner of his eyes until they begin falling down, and he’s unable to stop them.

“Thank you,” he says, bowing before the other third-years and the juniors. His voice is hoarse, and he feels like he’s barely keeping it together. “Thank you for being on this team.”

Takeda smiles at him from where he stands, and Ukai tells them how proud he is, that he never expected a bunch of little runts like them to make it this far, but _oh, who am I kidding, I’ve always believed in you guys_. Takeda’s words are nothing but soothing and kind, filled with promises of tomorrow and tomorrow, or more games to play and winnings to call their own. He looks at the third-years with just a bit of sadness in his eyes. Shouyou and the others, they’re the ones he’s seen grow up the most. He’d been right there from the start, to cheer them back up, to tell Shouyou, _this is still volleyball,_ and to remind him of his promise to win more than just one gold medal. Shouyou still holds onto that.

As they leave the gym, stepping out into the cold air, Shouyou can’t help but feel the hollowness in his bones, now that it’s all over. He won’t be playing as a member of Karasuno anymore after this. He won’t have to get up extra early for morning practice, and he won’t be required to swing by for the afternoon practices (though he knows he will be). He won’t have to think up strategies and bicker about them with Kageyama on the way to Sakanoshita, and he won’t have to treat the juniors to meat buns anymore (but he’ll do it once more, for old time’s sake). He won’t have to hear the sound of spiked volleyballs when he walks in to know that Kageyama’s already there, and he won’t be listening in on all the stories exchanged in the club room as they change. He won’t have to do any of those things anymore.

Instead, he’ll be somewhere else, far from Miyagi and the little town he’d grown up in. He’ll be far from here, from the place he’s spent eighteen years calling home. No, instead, by next year, he’ll be in Rio, still learning and still practicing. He’ll be a whole ocean away, and of course Shouyou is afraid, but that fear just gives him a little more room to be brave, doesn’t it? In time, he knows he’ll get there. He still has to prepare first, of course, but he’ll get there eventually.

And today—today, he is still the defeated. But he’ll make sure to become something else one day. Shouyou knows it.

Because this is not the end.

Hinata Shouyou will keep on playing volleyball, on a gym floor, on a grand national court, on a television screen, and onto a beach in Rio. No matter where the future takes him, no matter where his feet will bring him, he will keep playing. He has learned loss before, and it will happen again and again, and hurt so much that he can only laugh to try to stop the pain. But it will not stop him. Because like always, this is still volleyball.

And he will keep on playing.

Tobio clambers into the bus, his legs beginning to ache with exhaustion, feeling sluggish and sore. His face is tear-tracked, and he feels a little hollow inside, with the knowledge that his days of high school volleyball are over. Through the windows, he finds a stoplight blinking back at him, switching from green back to red, and Tobio wants to ask it a question. _Will it be alright?_ he says, but it offers no reply, and Tobio looks away, not really knowing why he’d bothered in the first place. Inanimate objects can’t talk.

He lets Hinata take the seat next to the window before slipping in next to him, and thinks about how it’s been long since they did this for the first time, when he learned of the other boy’s preference for seeing the world pass by while they drove. It never really mattered to Tobio, so he lets Hinata take it, and it’s been that way ever since.

Once he’s sitting, he feels as though his legs are sinking through the seat, heavy weight resting on the fabric. He tilts his head back, and rests his back. His fingers are still red, his palm pink, and he loosens his fist to let it relax it on his lap. He’s tired, and he’s hungry, and he’s probably gonna knock out once he finds a bed to lie on—or any horizontal surface will do just fine, really—and let today bleed into tomorrow with his eyes closed.

As the bus begins rattling on down the road, Tobio looks around, the first and second-years fast asleep, passed out from exhaustion. Tsukishima’s awake with his headphones around his ears, Yamaguchi resting on his shoulder. Yachi’s talking quietly to one of the managers, showing her pictures on her phone—possibly an attempt to cheer the younger one up. Takeda and Ukai are discussing something at the front, their voices low and rumbling. Tipping his head to the right, Tobio glances at Hinata, staring out the window, his chin tucked under his hand as he places his arm on the ledge. He looks lost in thought, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration, a faraway look in his eyes. Tobio wonders just where he is now.

He replays the game in his mind, going through every set and receive and play, just to see what he could improve on next time. He doesn’t let any regret linger—what’s done is done, and even though he wishes that they could’ve played longer, the only thing he can do is move forward. Still, the wish for a little _more_ lingers fresh in his mind, just like the emptiness inside of him, mourning all those games that they played together. It feels like he’s lost something, that he will never play with this team again. That he will never have any of this again.

He understands what Hinata had meant, a few nights ago. This is where it will all end.

But it’s where something new begins too.

His mind wanders back to earlier, to what that man in a nice suit had said, when he pulled Tobio aside a couple of minutes after the awarding ceremony, catching him in between the camera flashes and the interviews. (Yamaguchi and Hinata had been particularly giddy about the whole interview thing, and maybe Tobio really is getting sentimental, with just how far they’ve come from being an unknown school to becoming a powerhouse.) He’d been off to buy another cool setter shirt, eyeing the design with interest, when the man had approached him, smiling kindly with a shine in his eyes and a proposition on his tongue.

The _Schweiden Adlers,_ the man had said. A professional team in the V.League, in the top tier of Division 1. He’d offered Tobio a spot for after he graduates, assuming he doesn’t have any plans for college—which Tobio doesn’t, because this is _exactly_ what he was hoping for. His heart soars at the scout’s words, excitement running through his veins, and without hesitation, Tobio accepts. This is what he’s been waiting for this whole time. This is the road he’s going to take. The land he’s going to sail towards.

Tobio breathes it all in, easy and slow, one, two, three.

He’s going to be moving forward, up to the next, grander stage. _Professional volleyball,_ he thinks to himself in bewilderment. In just a few more months, he’ll be there. Of course, Tobio knows that he’ll have to earn his place there to become the starting setter—but that’s always been a given. He knows the truth: that it isn’t by prodigious talent that he’s gotten this far, but because of the skills he’s sharpened day by day. He’s nothing but a hard worker, and this is what’s become of it. He’ll see where it takes him.

Tobio’s startled out of his thoughts when he feels something press against his shoulder. He turns to see that Hinata’s head has fallen to the left, his cheek squished into Tobio’s shoulder, the tips of his curly hair just barely tickling Tobio’s chin. His eyes are shut, relaxed, and Tobio figures that Hinata has finally given way to the exhaustion too, if the little snores he’s letting out are anything to go by. He hadn’t noticed when Hinata had fallen asleep.

But back to that—as the realization hits him just what’s happening exactly _,_ Tobio’s whole body stiffens, and he feels his face burst into flames. He suddenly feels very, very awake, and he could probably run a couple of miles right now. Of course this has happened before, they’ve fallen asleep on buses so many times before, but Tobio’s still not used to it one bit. Slowly, he lets himself relax, careful not to move too much as to disturb Hinata. He breathes deeply, willing to the blush away from his cheeks. _Calm down,_ he hisses at himself. No one’s even looking. There’s no reason to panic. It was an accident. This isn’t the first time.

Tobio looks back over at Hinata, to his sleeping figure, peaceful and muted around all the edges. The afternoon sun bleeds through the windows, turning his hair golden and fiery, like the greatest flame he’s ever seen, and freckles mark his cheeks like pinpricks, and up close, Tobio can see each and everyone one of them. He could count Hinata’s eyelashes too, trace the shadows they make on his skin, and follow the line of his lips, soft and pink. Tobio imagines bringing his hand up to cup Hinata’s jaw, to press his palm against his cheeks, just to feel the warmth, and how he’d think to himself, _this is the campfire that mocks the sun._ He pictures what it would like to have these things in the broad daylight, not having to hide behind false pretenses or excuses, not settling for stolen glances and sparks that die and die and die a million times over. He imagines what it would be like, to have this for real.

He was wrong, Tobio realizes. He was wrong about having no regrets. He has one.

And it’s _this_ —this is the one thing he will have to leave behind, like it never even existed. This is the one regret that he will hold, he will carry all the way into the years and the months. This is the bittersweet aftertaste that will linger on his tongue for every word he speaks. Kageyama Tobio’s one regret is Hinata Shouyou.

Tobio’s heart lurches in his chest, a sharp pang, and he can’t seem to take his eyes off Hinata at all, even when the feeling threatens to swallow him whole. He’d thought that he learned to float, but this is a whole new matter entirely—a wave crashes over him as Tobio realizes that this is what he’ll have to leave behind. He’d meant it when he told Hinata that _this_ wouldn’t have to change, and he stands by it—but it still hurts. It still fucking hurts, and it’s blue all over, losing this and keeping it at the same time. Because as he gets to hold it with him, carry this love, the condition is that there must always be a distance to hover between them, that Tobio can only love Hinata within that distance, and never closer than that. This is his restriction, in order for him to keep it.

Because what’s the point now? Hinata had voiced his worries to Tobio about losing things—and Tobio had promised that he wouldn’t be one of those things. He’d stay. He’d be constant. He’d still _be there._ And to let his feelings be known, now of all times, there couldn’t be a timing that’s even worse. He’s missed his chance, even when he’d resolved from the start that he wouldn’t say anything. Even if he wanted to now, as they stumble closer to the end, he wouldn’t be able to. There isn’t anything left for him to do now, except love from the sidelines.

And Tobio looks over at Hinata, at the way the light favors him more than anything, and thinks about how this is why the shadows are always chasing after the sun. Thinks about how you never forget the taste of light. Because Kageyama Tobio is on a bus with a beautiful boy, and he’s trying not to tell him that he loves him, but he loves him so much that he aches with the thought of it. And it’s awful and terrible and Tobio’s sure that he’s done something wrong in his past life to deserve this, but he’s too far gone now, and it’s too late to say anything.

“I love you,” Tobio says, barely even audible, more like the ghost of words, so light, and he thinks that maybe he’s a coward for doing it this way. Maybe it’s selfish, that he can only say it when he’s sure Hinata isn’t listening, but he’s tired, and he’s lovelorn, and he’s standing on the wrong side of heartbreak, unsure of where it’ll take him. He thinks about what Hinata said before, about how loving is painful for him—and thinks that maybe it is sometimes, maybe it does hurt, but he also means it when he says that he’ll take it over than never having it in the first place. Tobio has always had the habit of putting everything into the things he does, and he loves like he breathes, like he could die without it, and maybe that’s really what Hinata meant. That he loves with his whole being, that he aches with the longing of it. He’s gotten so good at yearning that he doesn’t know how to be something without it. He doesn’t know what to be without the love he feels.

( _I’ll take it.)_

Hinata breathes out a loud snore, and Tobio freezes, wondering if Hinata had heard. But then his eyebrows furrow, and he tilts his head slightly, moving more into Tobio’s space—still in deep sleep. And Tobio’s glad to see that it looks like a pleasant dream, too, with the way the corners of his mouth tilts up. He relaxes again, letting his arms fall limp by his side.

Sleep begins singing to him not shortly after, making his eyelids droop every now now and then, and Tobio resigns himself to the exhaustion. Looking over at Hinata, an idea comes to him—and it’s a little terrifying, but, he reasons, Hinata won’t know if he’s asleep, and with his heart thundering in his chest, Tobio lets himself do it. Gingerly, he rests his head against Hinata’s, careful not to put too much weight, and leans backwards. He lets out a breath when Hinata doesn’t move or seem to notice, and finally closes his eyes. This is nice, Tobio thinks to himself, with Hinata so near to him. It’s nice, and even if he won’t have it for long, Tobio will take all that he can get.

Not long after Kageyama falls asleep, Hinata’s eyes blink open, still half-asleep, and he finds the position they’re in. With a smile on his lips, he reaches out for Kageyama’s hand and takes it, curling their fingers together, and hopes that they’ll stay connected even with the distance that’ll separate them soon.

> From: Hinata
> 
> _KAGEYAMA HAVE U SEEN THE NEWS THERES GONNA BE A METEOR SHOWER IN TWO WEEKS!!!!!!!!!_
> 
> To: Hinata
> 
> _Dumbass do u know what time it is??_
> 
> From: Hinata
> 
> _BUT ITS COOL ISNT IT???_
> 
> To: Hinata
> 
> _Yeah_
> 
> From: Hinata
> 
> _ugh okay fine i’ll do it_
> 
> From: Hinata
> 
> _DO YOU WANNA COME WATCH IT WITH ME!!_
> 
> To: Hinata
> 
> _Sure_
> 
> From: Hinata
> 
> _＼(★^∀^★)／_
> 
> To: Hinata
> 
> _Now go to sleep dumbass_
> 
> From: Hinata
> 
> _okay okay good night kageyama!! <3 _
> 
> To: Hinata
> 
> _??_
> 
> To: Hinata
> 
> _…_
> 
> _< 3_

“I’m really, really sorry,” Shouyou says, feeling his cheeks warm as smiles apologetically. He feels so bad, and what makes it even worse is that this isn’t exactly the first time it’s happened either, but it’s increased tenfold today, and Shouyou knows why. “But I don’t—I don’t think I can accept these.”

The girl in front of him takes a step back as her face falls, her lips falling into a wobbly line. Shouyou feels terrible. She lowers the red box in her hands, filled with dark chocolates that he can see through the transparent cover, a little note written on pink paper attached. She isn’t the first girl to have come over to him today, with nervous smiles and bright eyes, gifting him chocolate. Shouyou sighs. To be honest, he hadn’t realized that a lot of people liked him _that_ way, and it would’ve been just a little flattering if it wasn’t for how awful it made him feel to turn them down.

But Shouyou supposes he can relate to them in some way, in the cruelest sense that he, too, has a boy that he likes, and that boy will never look at him the same way.

“Please—please just take it,” she says, and she holds it up towards him again, and sadness curls around her eyes, blinking at the edges. “I understand that you don’t… It’s okay if you don’t feel that way about me, I’d just like you to have it. Think of it as obligation chocolate instead. For being nice to me.”

Shouyou nods slowly, and he takes the box from her with careful fingers. She smiles at him one last time, before bowing and leaving, exiting the classroom. He watches her go, blinking at what had just happened, and then glancing at the chocolates in his hand. He still feels really bad. Maybe if things were different…

No, he thinks, shaking his head. There’s no point in thinking that way, not when his heart has been so stubbornly fixated on the same blue-eyes boy for the last three years. It just wouldn’t be fair to anyone else, if he got with someone but was unable to give everything he had. He doesn’t want to do that.

Gently, he places the chocolate box in his bag—surprisingly, it’s nearly filled to the brim with other boxes of chocolate, and it’s not like he can use this as a competitive leverage against Kageyama (who’s _always_ gotten a lot of chocolates on Valentine’s Day, even back in the first year) because that’s simply not a good thing to do, and Shouyou is much nicer than that. Slinging his bag over his shoulder, Shouyou glances at the clock to see that it’s almost time for practice, and Kageyama’s probably gonna bark at him for being late.

Of course, they don’t really have to be at practice now that Nationals is over, but it’s not like something like that is going to keep him away from volleyball, of all things. Kageyama and the others had agreed to it too; they’d hang around while they still could, to help out the juniors. Even Tsukishima didn’t seem to argue about this—and Shouyou had grinned. He can still remember when the blonde had said that volleyball was _just a club_. Things really do change.

As Shouyou steps out of the classroom and into the hallway, he spots a familiar figure by the end of it, leaning outwards toward the window, staring out at the baseball field below. The air is still a little chilly and crisp, coming out of the ends of winter and melting back into spring, sharp as he inhales it. He runs up to the staircase, stopping short when he reaches the last window.

“Hey,” he says, grinning, as Kageyama turns to him. His serious expression morphs into something a little softer when he sees Shouyou, the trace of a smile gracing his lips, his eyes a little lighter. Kageyama’s always been one for the winter, after all. “What are you still doing here?”

“Waiting for you,” he answers back, and Shouyou hates the way he still isn’t used to Kageyama’s simple honesty when it comes to things like this, his heart skipping a beat in his chest and tripping on a cloud. Kageyama gestures to Shouyou’s bag, narrowing his eyes at the little pink slip of paper sticking out. “So? How many did you get today?”

Shouyou scoffs. “Why do you sound like you were expecting it?”

Kageyama shrugs, crossing his arms. “Lots of people like you,” he tells him, like it’s obvious. It _wasn’t_ , by the way, Shouyou thinks. “It’s not surprising. You’ve gotten a lot of attention this year.”

“What? Really?” Shouyou asks, gaping a little. “Are you serious? How come you knew and I didn’t?”

Kageyama just rolls his eyes. “Because I _notice_ things, dumbass.”

He squawks, throwing his arms out. “I notice things too! You’re the one who’s super oblivious!”

Tobio looks at him in disbelief. “ _I’m_ the oblivious one? Are you serious?”

“Yes!” Shouyou exclaims—and he swears it’s true, and he knows it first hand, that Kageyama Tobio is the densest, most oblivious jerk in the entire existence of this universe. Sometimes, Shouyou considers it lucky (because even _he_ knows that he can be pretty obvious about his feelings sometimes), but other times it’s just frustrating. It usually doesn’t bother Shouyou when girls come up to confess to Kageyama, pull him aside with hopeful glances, because he knows better than anyone else that Kageyama doesn’t care for things like that, but it still happens pretty often. “Do you _know_ just how many people like you?”

“Do _you?”_ Kageyama shoots back, an eyebrow raised. Glancing away, he rolls his eyes again. Then it’s like something shifts in his expression, turning a little more somber. “You don’t understand,” he says sharply, “the effect you have on people.”

“What?” he asks. “What are you talking about?”

Kageyama opens his mouth to speak, but seems to decide against it on the last second. “Never mind. It’s nothing.”

He scoffs. “It’s obviously _not_ nothing—”

“Then what do you think it is?” Kageyama asks, looking at him pointedly. “Look, maybe it’s just—” he pauses, finding the words. “It’s because—it’s because of your stupid hair!”

Shouyou bristles, suddenly feeling self-conscious “What _about_ my hair?”

Kageyama’s face turns red almost immediately. He gestures forward, not quite meeting his eyes. “It’s—!” he tries to exclaim, falling just a little short. “How do you expect people to—of course people are gonna like you when you—when you look like _that!”_

Shouyou blinks, stunned. His pulse is racing in his chest, blood rushing to his head, and he’s not entirely sure where this conversation is going, or where he even wants to to end up. “Uh,” he says, unsure. “Did you…did you just compliment me?”

Kageyama doesn’t miss a beat, huffing and crossing his arms, his expression neutral. “And what if I did?”

That takes him aback in even more surprise, his cheeks flooding with heat. He probably looks like a tomato. “Oh,” Shouyou says, and he feels like his brain is short-circuiting—maybe even dying. “I, um. Thanks.”

“Yeah,” Kageyama mutters, staring at the ground. It must be pretty interesting, since he looks so focused on it.

“You’re,” Shouyou starts to say as he shifts his weight from foot to foot. “Obviously, uh… You’re not—there are reasons why people like you too. It’s ‘cause when you’re not frowning, you can—well, you can look really nice, you know? It’s your face. I mean, it’s, it looks nice. When you’re not looking like a demon on the hunt, I guess. It’s—pretty. Yeah.”

Kageyama’s head snaps up to look at him, bewilderment setting into his face almost suddenly, eyes filled with disbelief. He raises his eyebrows. “A demon…on the hunt?”

Shouyou throws his hands into the air in exasperation. “Why is that what you latched onto?”

Kageyama blushes again, and it sends something right into Shouyou’s heart—the idea that Kageyama’s blush is because of him, that he caused it to happen. It makes him feel happy enough that his irritation melts away, and he just sighs, rubbing a hand over his face.

“This is stupid,” he says, looking back up at Kageyama with a smile, his shoulders beginning to shake as he takes in the ridiculousness of it all.

Kageyama’s face breaks into a smile too, and before Shouyou knows it, they’re both laughing uncontrollably, bent over the window with their cheeks stretched wide into matching toothy grins. Happiness always suited Kageyama best, Shouyou thinks, and he wants to make Kageyama laugh all the time, even over the stupid stuff. After all this time, he’s still trying to make it happen as often as possible.

“We should probably head to practice,” Kageyama says after they’ve both calmed down, and Shouyou nods, adjusting his bag over his shoulder. They walk down the stairs side by side, and Shouyou recounts one of the shenanigans Natsu had gotten into when she came to watch them at Nationals.

“It must be a sibling thing,” Kageyama says, amused, as they round the vending machines to the side of the building.

“What, meeting your rivals in bathrooms?” Shouyou says, looking up at Kageyama with a pointed grin. “She’d said that the other girl was squaring her up too, saying she wasn’t taking it seriously. Sound familiar to you, Bakageyama?”

“Nope,” Kageyama deadpans, but the smirk on his lips gives it all away, and Shouyou laughs, filling up the empty space in the air. “Not a single clue.”

“Stupid,” Shouyou says, rolling his eyes. They head up to the club room, and Shouyou jiggles the doorknob open—it’s a bit broken and doesn’t close that well, and they should probably get that fixed eventually—and finds the rest of the team already there.

“Took you two long enough,” Tsukishima says once they enter, and Shouyou just rolls his eyes. “I was beginning to wonder if you guys would ever show up.”

“Aw, did you miss us, Stingyshima?” Shouyou quips back easily, dropping his bag onto the bench to change out of his uniform. “

Tsukishima just scoffs, opening his mouth to offer another dry retort, but Yamaguchi beats him to it, gasping loudly.

“Hinata!” he says, stepping closer to inspect Shouyou’s open bag, the several boxes of chocolate peeking out. His eyes are wide with surprise as he leans back with an eyebrow raised. “Man, you got so many this year. Should’ve seen it coming, really.”

“Yeah, Hinata-san is really popular!” one of the second-years says, peering over to look at Shouyou’s bag.

Another pipes up, “A lot of girls are always talking about him!”

“Why did everyone know that except me?” Shouyou mutters to himself, as he changes into a plain white shirt, popping his head out of the hole.

Yamaguchi just laughs and pats him on the back. “Probably because everyone was too shy around you, you know? You’re really bright sometimes.”

Shouyou just shakes his head. “They shouldn’t be shy,” he says, placing his hands on his hips. “I’m super nice! Right?” He glances up at Kageyama for moral support, but he just looks plain disinterested in the whole topic, so he nudges at the side. “Right, Kageyama?”

Kageyama just stares, not saying a single word.

Shouyou huffs, and he hears Yamaguchi snicker from the other side. He punches Kageyama lightly on the shoulder, satisfied when the setter yelps a little. “Serves you right,” he says.

“Kageyama’s probably still got the most, though, doesn’t he?” Yamaguchi asks as they’re heading outside the clubroom and towards the gym. Shouyou trails next to him, rubbing his hands up and down his arm to keep warm. “He always does.”

Shouyou turns his head back to where Kageyama’s walking behind the rest of the group, tucked into a conversation with one of the second-years with a jump serve. “I guess,” he says, shrugging. It might’ve bothered him back in their first year, but Shouyou’s long since accepted that he isn’t the only one with eyes for Kageyama Tobio. And as he’d already thought earlier—it doesn’t matter to Kageyama, so there’s no point in him caring about it either.

“Have you…” Yamaguchi says, faltering and lowering his voice, and his eyes dart to where Kageyama is before turning back to Shouyou. “Have you told Kageyama? About Brazil?”

Shouyou inhales sharply, and shakes his head. “No,” he replies. Uncertainty crawls on his skin when he thinks about it. In all honesty, he’s still not really sure why he hasn’t said it. It shouldn’t be that hard because it’s just Kageyama, and Kageyama’s always understood, and he’s always been supportive. But maybe that’s just the thing—that there’s never been ‘ _just’_ with Kageyama. With him, it’s like a million things slotting into their perfect position, and there are a thousand names to call the two of them—friend, partner, rival. It’s always been blurry lines and soft edges and wobbly tightropes. It’s always been cotton candy clouds and lightning strikes and wide open seas. It should be easy to say it, to this one person who pushed him to do it in the first place, to this person he’s so determined to defeat, to prove that he doesn’t need anyone else in order for him to fly. It should be easy to tell him that this is how he’s going to learn to do everything, and that it’s going to help him fulfill his end of their promise.

It should be easy. Why isn’t it easy?

His throat constricts and the words get locked away every time he tries telling Kageyama—like when they’d ridden the bus home from Nationals, or just yesterday, when they’d gone for meat buns and he was talking a mile a minute about all the things he wanted to do when he was older. He could’ve said it, and it would’ve slipped right into the conversation without any gaps hanging in the air, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it at all. Something always stopped him, made him swallow the words back down, die on his lips and disappear forever. He just needs to figure out _why_ , so that he can get over it, and _tell him._ Kageyama deserves to know. He’s Shouyou’s best friend.

“I know I should,” Shouyou croaks out, and feels a little shaky, unsteady with all the thoughts swimming in his head. “And…and I will. Eventually.” He shoots Yamaguchi a weak smile as they step inside the gym, hovering close to the door, and the underclassmen move along to start setting up.

“And what about…the other thing?” Yamaguchi asks, raising an eyebrow and giving Shouyou a knowing look.

“Still no,” Shouyou says grimly. “That one I’m sure about. It’s never gonna happen,” he tells Yamaguchi, holding his arms over his head for a stretch. “What about you? Any chance you’ll be confessing? It _is_ Valentine’s Day, you know.”

Yamaguchi laughs, but his smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Then we have the same answer. You know how he is. I don’t think he even acknowledges today as anything special.”

“Well,” Shouyou says, tilting his head. He remembers a moment from before, when Yamaguchi had mentioned to him that he’d almost confessed. He knows without a doubt that Tsukishima likes Yamaguchi back—neither of them have just said anything yet. He thinks it has a lot to do with Tsukishima’s stubbornness. “Have you ever thought about what would happen if _he_ confessed?”

“What? Tsukki?” Yamaguchi asks, the disbelief clearly laced in his tone. “He wouldn’t. He doesn’t—he’s not the type.”

Shouyou hums. “But he could be,” he offers hopefully. “He could be, for you. Maybe he’s thinking about it.”

“I doubt it,” Yamaguchi says. “And anyway—”

“Look! Kageyama-san’s getting another confession!”

Shouyou’s head snaps to the direction of the voice, where two of the first-years are huddled on the edge of the doorway, their heads peeking outside, peering at the scene before them. He blinks repeatedly, and doesn’t really notice that his feet have brought him closer, just enough to see what they’re talking about.

And sure enough, halfway hidden by the corner of the building, Kageyama stands, the slightest hint of discomfort on his face, with a boy standing in front of him. Shouyou can’t see who it is exactly, but they seem younger than him. He can’t hear what they’re saying either, since they’re too far away, and the expressions on Kageyama’s face don’t give much away. It takes a couple more moments before a box of chocolates is shoved into Kageyama’s hands, and the boy walks away, leaving Kageyama to stand there alone, a little frown on his face, but that’s just basically his face of neutrality. And judging by how Kageyama hadn’t seemed to argue about receiving the chocolates, could it be possible…?

Kageyama turns, heading back towards the gym, and the rest of the team scrambles, pretending that they hadn’t just been watching. Shouyou feels his cheeks burn, even if he’s seen Kageyama get confessed to a million times before. There’s a pit of worry in his stomach, a feeling he’s only really felt in volleyball before, but enough to be able to name it—an ugly swirly emotion that resides in the bottom of his chest: jealousy. And that’s just outright ridiculous, Shouyou thinks, because can’t let it fester into something without even really knowing what happened. That’s just irrational, isn’t it?

(But maybe, he thinks, that he’s jealous that someone else has been brave enough to do what he can never imagine doing himself. That someone else was able to tell Kageyama of their feelings for him like it doesn’t make them feel lightheaded and heavy all at once—caught in between the crossroads of how to act, unsure of where to go. That someone else could do what he can’t, even when he so desperately wishes he could.)

Kageyama steps back into the gym, and he’s immediately caught the attention of everyone, their eyes on him. He only tilts his head in confusion. “What?”

Yamaguchi is the first to speak up. “Did you, you know…say yes? To the confession?”

Kageyama only looks even more confused. “No?” he says.

“Why?” Shouyou blurts out before he can stop himself. He can’t help himself from the relief that floods through his veins, either, though he does feel a little bad about it.

Kageyama shrugs, like it’s simple. Maybe it is, and everyone else is just overthinking it. “I don’t like them,” he replies. It’s the same thing that he says whenever Shouyou asks.

“Oh,” Shouyou says.

“Yeah,” Kageyama says back.

“Then,” one of the second-years says, “what kind of person would you say yes to? You always seem to say no whenever you get a confession.”

Shouyou remembers asking that question too, once. It had been back when he’d first realized he had a crush on Kageyama, and was still sorting it all out. _If I did see someone that way,_ Kageyama had said back then, _I’d want them to know me._ It’s probably still true until now, Shouyou thinks. It doesn’t seem like something that Kageyama would change.

Kageyama still looks confused, like he isn’t sure why they’re all asking him about this in the first place. “Someone who knows me,” he says, and it’s the same thing, a constant reply. Shouyou thinks he’s imagining it, when Kageyama glances at him for the tiniest second, before looking back at the second-year. “I’d want them to know me well enough that they know what it really means when they say it.”

“And it would help if you liked them back too, wouldn’t it?” the second-year says.

There’s a beat before Kageyama answers, “Yeah.”

“It’s too bad then,” Tsukishima says dryly, humor laced lightly on his lips. “That the guy he likes is just oblivious as he is.”

And just like that, Shouyou’s world screeches to a halt.

“What?” he croaks out, the word is barely even audible, but Kageyama hears him anyway, snapping his head to look at him. “What did you say?”

Kageyama turns back to Tsukishima, his cheeks rose pink, and sends him the deadliest glare that Shouyou’s ever seen. “Don’t you _dare_ say another word.”

Tsukishima raises an eyebrow, wrinkling his nose in the face of a challenge. But even he seems to concede, as though Kageyama really does have leverage on him, and he raises his hands in surrender. “Oops.”

“Woah, wait, wait, wait,” Shouyou says, blinking repeatedly. He looks straight at Kageyama in disbelief, and his heart feels like it’s just about to take a fall. “ _You like someone?”_

“No, I—” Kageyama says, before he restarts, “That’s—he isn’t—” The words seem to be foreign around his tongue, his shoulders tending with every word. “I, uh, sort of. Maybe. It’s—complicated?”

Tsukishima snorts. Kageyama glares at him again.

“I don’t really want to talk about it,” he settles on saying, staring intently at the ground. He mumbles out, his voice incredibly soft, “It’s not like he—he doesn’t like me back.”

Shouyou’s heart plummets straight into the ground. It’s probably already buried six feet under.

 _He_ , Kageyama said. _He doesn’t like me back._

It replays over and over in his head like a broken record, and Shouyou can’t seem to focus on anything else but that. He should probably say something before Kageyama gets concerned, but all the words seem to have left his system, his pleas left unheard. _He doesn’t like me back. He doesn’t like me back. He doesn’t like me back. He—_

Coach Ukai blows his whistle, announcing the start of practice, and Shouyou moves quickly, keeping his eyes trained on what’s before him. He hears Kageyama make a confused sound, but doesn’t turn back to check—he doesn’t know what he’d do with what he’d find, and frankly, it feels much better this way. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Yamaguchi looking over at thin with worry, so he quickly shoots him a thumbs up in reassurance. He stumbles his way over to where a couple of the members are practicing their serves, and joins right in, hoping that it’ll distract him from what he’s just heard.

It doesn’t go very well. It’s almost like he’s reverted back to being a first-year: missing every ball thrown at him, and once, embarrassingly even taking another volleyball to the face because he was distracted. He can’t focus at all, and his pulse keeps racing in his chest, his palms sweaty, all for reasons unrelated to volleyball and completely and absolutely related to Kageyama Tobio.

He can feel Kageyama’s eyes on him as he goes to pick up a few of the stray balls, but refuses to look in his direction. Kageyama’s gotten so good at reading him over the years and learning the surface of his heart, that it terrifies him to think that Kageyama would be able to see right through him, and know exactly what he’s thinking about. That would make matters even worse.

_He doesn’t like me back._

Because here’s the deal, okay? Here it is, here is what it means, here is how Shouyou sees it, plain as day and laid out before him like a menu card at a restaurant he doesn’t want to be in. This is what it means for Kageyama to have said such a thing.

It means that Shouyou was wrong this whole time. It means that he was mistaken about what Kageyama thought about _feelings_ and _dating_ and _love._ It means that Kageyama _has_ thought about things like those, and that he’s done it enough to consider liking someone. It means that it isn’t just volleyball that runs across his mind, but something else too. It means that it isn’t that Kageyama doesn’t like people, or that he doesn’t like boys—he just doesn’t like _Shouyou_.

And that, in itself, is crushing enough on its own. This whole time, that was all there was to it.

And Shouyou, desperately, helplessly, needs to know who it is that caught Kageyama Tobio’s attention. Just what kind of person are they, how great and wonderful do they have to be, that they got Kageyama to look their way? How did they do it?

(And another part that confuses him is this: Shouyou’s spent most of his time by Kageyama’s side, most of his waking moments. Surely, he would’ve noticed Kageyama liked someone, right? And they’re supposed to be best friends, aren’t they? How come Kageyama never told him? Does he not trust him enough? Maybe that part makes him a little more bitter than anything else.)

Once practice is over, and after Yachi gives him obligation chocolate, which he happily accepts, Shouyou bounces right over to Kageyama’s side, a little bit hesitant. He hovers closely to where Kageyama is packing up his things, tucking his practice shirt into his bag, having finished fixing up all his things himself.

“What?” Kageyama asks when he notices Shouyou lingering, an untrustworthy expression on his face. “What is it?”

“Nothing!” Shouyou answers too quickly, feeling embarrassed as his cheeks heat up. “It’s nothing! I’m just waiting for you, that’s all!”

The air is tense as Kageyama finishes changing, and they step outside to begin their walk home. Kageyama keeps a scowl on his face while Shouyou tries not to be obvious about sneaking glances every now and then, his eyes darting back and forth. It’s quiet, save for the sound of asphalt crunching beneath their feet and the breeze of the wind, and Shouyou’s heart is pounding in his chest. He keeps trying to open his mouth to say something, to maybe just _ask_ Kageyama what it was all about, but the words keep dying on his lips and none of them seem right.

Once they make it past Sakanoshita, though, something seems to finally break.

“You know what?” Kageyama says, sounding exasperated as he stops walking suddenly, turning to fully face Shouyou with a frustrated look on his face. “Okay, that’s it. Spit it out, dumbass.”

Shouyou stammers, his voice pitching higher than normal. “That’s—why are you assuming I have something to say—I don’t know why—”

The setter groans. “Look,” he says, with a pained expression on his face, as though he really would rather be discussing anything else but this. “If this is about—if this is about what I said earlier about me…me liking someone,” he winces, “then just forget about it, okay? I don’t want to talk about it.”

“What? Why not?” Shouyou whines, frowning. He inches closer, stepping on his toes. “Come on, Kageyama! Tell me, tell me! I wanna know!”

“Why,” Kageyama says flatly, the tips of his ears going red.

“Well—you know—because you’re my best friend!” Shouyou exclaims. “And best friends tell each other things!”

“I don’t want to tell you,” Kageyama says back, looking away. There’s a crease on his forehead, that same one he gets when something is worrying him. It’s such a curious thing then, Shouyou thinks, how he still manages to look pretty no matter what. Maybe it’s a sunset sky thing.

“But Tsukishima knows! _Tsukishima!_ I thought you didn’t even like him,” he says, and he knows he’s being a baby about this, but he can’t help it. “How come Tsukishima knows and I don’t? That’s not fair.”

Kageyama scowls. “It’s not like I _wanted_ him to find out,” he says, irritation laced in his tone. “He figured it out himself.”

That gets Shouyou stumped. He knows that Tsukishima is smart, and he’s really good at observing things, so maybe that’s why he saw Kageyama crushing on someone when Shouyou didn’t—but isn’t Shouyou the one who notices Kageyama the most? How come he didn’t see it? Wouldn’t he have noticed if Kageyama hung out with someone enough to start liking them?

“Is it…is it someone on the team?” Shouyou asks hesitantly, feeling a little wary.

Kageyama blinks, before his face turns even more red, and Shouyou’s heart does something when he realizes he’s hit the nail on the head.

“Oh my god,” he says, surprised. His brain feels frozen, like a service error in his head. He takes another step forward. “Who is it? Is it one of the second-years? The first-years?” Shouyou gasps, coming to a certain realization, and honestly feeling a little horrified. “Holy shit, Kageyama, do you like _Yamaguchi?”_

“What?” Kageyama asks, bewildered. “Why the hell would you think I like Yamaguchi?”

Shouyou flounders helplessly, moving his arms around. “I don’t know! I just thought—since Tsukishima knew, and _he_ likes Yamaguchi, maybe that’s why he noticed!” he exclaims, feeling very insistent. “Kageyama, you can’t like Yamaguchi, _Tsukishima_ likes Yamaguchi!”

“I don’t like Yamaguchi,” Kageyama snaps.

Immense relief floods him all at once. “Oh,” he says, taking a deep breath. “Oh. Okay, that’s good then.” Once that feeling settles, Shouyou gets back on track, staring up at Kageyama once more. Tilting his head in confusion, he says, “Then who do you like?”

Kageyama raises an eyebrow at him. “Why do you care so much?”

Shouyou feels a blush prickle his skin, and he looks away, hoping Kageyama won’t see it. “Because,” he says, kicking a rock and watching it tumble over to the side of the road.

“Because?”

“Just because,” Shouyou says stubbornly. He can’t tell Kageyama the truth, obviously, because then that would be a hundred levels of wrong. But he also knows that he doesn’t have a right to be jealous, not when he himself has never spoken of his own feelings to Kageyama, either. Kageyama isn’t _his_ —and the setter’s right when he says that he doesn’t have to tell Shouyou if he doesn’t want to. And anyway, their friendship always comes first, no matter what. So maybe he doesn’t know why Kageyama is so adamant about not telling him who it is, but that still doesn’t mean he can’t be a good friend.

And before anything else, Shouyou wants to be a good friend.

“Because,” he says again, but a little more determined this time. He lets his shoulders drop, and swallows his pride, thick and heavy in his stomach. “Because I could’ve…I could help you? If you need it?”

Kageyama is silent for a moment before he shakes his head. When he looks back at Shouyou, there’s just a hint of sadness in his eyes—longing, maybe. Shouyou’s seen it in his own self enough times to know what it is. And even if it hurts, he figures that Kageyama must really like this person a lot, if he’s looking like that.

“No, I—I don’t…I don’t think you can,” Kageyama says, his voice soft and small, and suddenly Shouyou feels as though he’s treading on broken glass. “It isn’t that I don’t want you to, but… It’s just not going to happen. I know it isn’t.”

Hearing the sadness in Kageyama’s voice melts away everything else, and all Shouyou wants to do is be able to comfort him.

“Hey,” he says softly, taking a small step closer. “You don’t know that. I could help you woo them. Maybe that’ll change their mind.”

Kageyama smiles weakly. “I don’t think there’s anything you can do,” he says, so quiet, and it breaks Shouyou to hear how defeated he is. He feels anger well up inside of him—who does this boy think he is, to make Kageyama feel sad like this? Doesn’t he know just how lucky he is? Doesn’t he know that Shouyou would do anything just for Kageyama to give him a second glance?

“Oh,” Shouyou says. “Kageyama, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“I didn’t think it really mattered,” Kageyama tells him, and he smiles, but it’s not as bright as the ones Shouyou likes seeing on his face. “That’s why I never told you.”

“Of course it matters,” Shouyou says immediately. “They’re your feelings. Of course they matter.” He takes Kageyama’s hand and squeezes it gently before letting go, that dull throbbing in his chest returning. “And if your crush doesn’t like you back, then they don’t know what they’re missing out. They don’t know how good they’ve got it. Plus, if you think it’s your fault or something, I’ll punch you.”

Kageyama snorts. “Are you reassuring or threatening me?”

His lips twist into a wry smile. “Both.”

“Dumbass.”

“ _Your_ dumbass,” Shouyou says cheekily, watching in satisfaction as Kageyama’s cheeks turn pink in the evening sky like a reflection, as always. He bumps his side against Kageyama’s playfully as they start walking down the road again. “And hey,” he says with a smile, “even if it doesn’t work out with your… _crush_ , I’ll always be here, you know? You’ve still got me.”

And he means every bit of it. Shouyou had known from the very beginning that this was the very likelihood of how their story would play out—and that’s why he chose to keep his distance in the first place. He’d known that one day Kageyama would find someone—maybe he hadn’t imagined it like this, but if that’s how it goes, he isn’t in a position to argue—and that Kageyama would like them and win them over, and Shouyou’s long since accepted that. It just still puts a bitter taste in his mouth, and leaves his stomach churning, but if that’s what he has to live with to keep Kageyama in his life, then it’s fine. Shouyou will learn to be satisfied. He’ll learn how to settle. For Kageyama’s sake.

All of this, a friendship and nothing more, it will have to be enough, for as long as he lives. He’s just glad that he has it. He never wants to lose it.

“Yeah,” Kageyama says, and Shouyou’s heart skips a beat in his chest. His heart bleeds pink and red like the sky, spilling his feelings over the concrete pavement, visible only to him. His breath catches when he looks over at Kageyama, at the way he’s looking at Shouyou, all soft and gentle, subdued with fondness in his eyes. Shouyou can’t breathe at all.

“And maybe…” Kageyama continues, looking a little unsure, but there’s a bit of light in his eyes. “Maybe one day I’ll tell you. I’ll tell you everything. Think you can be a little patient?”

Shouyou laughs a little. “You have no idea, Kageyama.”

And in that moment, Shouyou understands why it’s so hard for him to tell Kageyama about Brazil. To say it out loud means that it’ll become realer than it already feels, to let it change into something palpable instead of something from the distant future. It’s because saying it out loud is to acknowledge this part of the story, just like how he’s ignorant of the way a part of his life has molded into a story about a love never returned. It’s to acknowledge that this is really where it’s going to end, and that the flickers of hope that Shouyou has stubbornly held onto are to be extinguished by letting those syllables loose into his life.

Because the truth is, saying it out loud to Kageyama makes it even more final, because every word Shouyou says to him feels like a promise without even knowing it. Saying it to him kickstarts the final countdown, and Shouyou needs to finally face the music. It’s about time that he does, now that the end is coming so close. He has to do this to keep his end of the promise, of his vow to defeat Kageyama one day.

And he knows that for him to be able to do that, he’ll have to let go of this. He’ll have to let go of these halcyon high school days, of these little moments that’ll just fade into time. Because Shouyou knows that it won’t ever be the same again. Even if he sees Kageyama again one day, nothing will be as it once was. He’ll be different, and so will Kageyama, and if he couldn’t convince Kageyama to look his way now, then there’s no chance of it happening when they’re older, when they have had distance to separate them and change the way they are. If he had any chances at all, he’s already missed them, and there’s no point in holding onto something that was never going to be.

So he’ll take this, instead. He’ll take what he has, and he’ll keep it. Because he has to tell the truth eventually, and he’ll have to admit it. It’s the only way he can truly move forward—so that he can finally say that he’s capable of flying on his own. And accepting that this is it for them, that he’s run out of opportunities and luck, that’s all he needs to finally be able to say it. He has to tell Kageyama about Brazil and face what it really means.

Because it’s just like he said—best friends tell each other things, and Shouyou will finally tell Kageyama Tobio.

“I’m so excited!” Hinata says, grinning, and Tobio thinks that it must be a feat or some special peculiarity in the universe that allows him to still glow bright in the dark, like a beacon. Like a lighthouse. “ _Gwah,_ it’s gonna be so cool!”

Tobio keeps walking through the grass, climbing up on the hill. “You’ve said that a million times already, dumbass.”

Hinata remains undeterred. “I’ll make you see, Yamayama! And then you’ll understand what I mean!”

Tobio just rolls his eyes. It’s his first time watching a meteor shower, but not Hinata’s, which made him even more excited about the idea of Tobio coming out to watch it with him. He’s staying the night at Hinata’s place too, since it’s going to happen pretty late, and Hinata has a certain spot he wants to watch from near his house. Tobio had complied, which is why he’s here now, almost convinced that they’re actually in the middle of nowhere, on a grassy hill with no one else in sight.

“Come on, we’re almost there!” Hinata says excitedly, running up the rest of the way, and bouncing on his feet at the top while he waits for Kageyama. “Come on, come on!”

In just a few moments, Tobio finally makes it to the top, and he’s just about to question about what made this place so special that they had to go all the way for it, when he finally takes in the view before him, and all he lets out instead is—

“Holy shit.”

Because down below, the rest of the town glitters and shines with the streetlights and lit-up houses, the roads intertwining and intersecting at different points like an elaborate map. It’s all tiny enough that they just look like dots, and if Tobio squints, his double vision makes the lights burst into twice as many, colorful and silver and golden. It’s quiet up here too, with just the softest rustle of the world below them, the cicadas chirping into the night and the soft breeze of the wind gentle on their skin. Fireflies fly gently around the grass, flickering in and out like the stars themselves. Tobio doesn’t have to wonder why Hinata was so persistent about this place. Just one look is enough to tell him why.

“Right?” Hinata says, grinning. In his eyes are the twinkling stars, like silver flickers of light in the brown, dancing and twirling. He lets out a sigh of admiration. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

Tobio can’t seem to take his eyes off of the view. “Yeah,” he says.

“Oh, here,” Hinata says, walking a little further into the field before unfolding the blanket he’d brought. It’s a soft cotton blue one, big enough for both of them to lie on. He sits upon it, and pats the space next to him for Tobio. “We can sit here!”

Tobio folds his legs as he takes the spot, crossing them before him. He looks up at the sky, at the million stars that hang in the heavens above them. Hinata had once told him that the stars held secrets for them, but Tobio’s not sure of how true that is, since it had been of those random late text messages he sends. But he’d like to believe there’s some truth in it anyway, if Hinata believes in it, that there’s something out there with a direction in life. It’s better than going into things without a compass or sign at all.

“It’s supposed to start in a couple of minutes,” Hinata tells him, his words smooth over the syllables, and he lights up with another smile. “You’ll like it. I promise.”

“We’ll see,” Tobio says simply. There’s not really much to do except wait, and he’s thankful that it’s not hot or cold outside. It’s cool and fresh, at just the right amount, and Tobio leans down to lie on his back, letting him relish in the night air.

Hinata rests beside him, and their shoulders touch. Tobio tries not to think about it. He doesn’t let himself imagine what it would be like to press just a little bit closer, to let their arms fully touch, or to be able to wrap an arm around Hinata’s shoulders. Then he remembers Tsukishima making a joke about how he’s probably touch-starved, and hates the way that the asshole’s probably right.

Tobio sighs, and closes his eyes. He imagines that he’s lying on hardwood instead, the sounds of volleyballs bouncing ringing through his ears, and pretends that the crickets are cheering a frenzied chorus at a match he can’t see. He feels it enough in his bones, like a mix of all the games he’s ever played in his life, spreading around each other like watercolor, and all Tobio can really feel is the fact that he just wants to play, no matter where he is or how. He feels himself raise his hands up, palms toward the sky. They’ve always been his greatest pride and weapon, sharpened and skilled, well-kept and cared for.

Hinata makes an amused sound. “Are you setting to the sky, Kageyama?”

Tobio opens his eyes, embarrassed. He just does this sometimes, when he’s alone in his room, tossing a ball over his head repeatedly. In his comfort, he’d forgotten where he was. “No, I—” he falters. Shrugging slightly, he tries again, “I don’t really know.”

Hinata just smiles, and Tobio thinks it’s a wonder, really, how he glows like neon even in the darkest of times. Like he was born solar. “Well, I don’t know if the stars know how to play volleyball, but I bet the meteor shower could spike it down for you.”

Tobio snorts and rolls his eyes. “Stupid. It’s just a habit.”

He hums. “I have dreams like that too sometimes,” he tells Tobio. “Lots of volleyball dreams. I think one time my mom even said I was playing volleyball in my sleep!” Hinata lets out a little giggle, grinning at Tobio. “Bet I’m a really good player even when I’m asleep.”

Tobio scoffs. “They’re just dreams, dumbass. You wouldn’t even be able to see.”

“That’s not true!” Hinata argues, and his eyes shine with a memory ready on his tongue. “Remember back in our first year? I’d hit all your tosses with my eyes closed!”

Tobio’s filled with nostalgia for just a second. He remembers that, the incredulity that Hinata wasn’t even _looking_ when Tobio set to him, and that he trusted Tobio enough to get the ball there for him. And he remembers their fight that summer too, when Hinata said he wanted to stop, and Tobio had felt desperate and scared with the idea that he wasn’t going to be needed anymore. But he learned that it wasn’t that, and it had taken a while, but he learned to understand what Hinata felt, and when they fell back together it’s like everything clicked back into place, but even _better_ than before. It had been the best feeling, to have Hinata back by his side.

Tobio never wants to lose it again.

“You were so weird for doing that,” he settles on saying instead, the humor dry on his mouth. “You’re still weird, though.”

“It wasn’t weird! I just needed to focus on my jump, like you said!” Hinata says. “And that just means I trusted you, anyway. I still do.”

Tobio immediately flushes. “Hinata, you can’t just—you can’t stay stuff like that.”

“But it’s true,” Hinata says, smiling, and Tobio’s heart is so, so weak. He likes this stupid boy so much that the feeling overwhelms him. It’s incredible. “And you trust me too, right?”

Tobio looks away, hoping that the shadows are enough to cover his flaming cheeks. “Isn’t that a given already,” he mutters, and Hinata laughs softly, obviously happy with Tobio’s response.

They stay quiet after that, listening to the echo of the crickets’ song, the wind’s ballad to the moon, staring up at the stars and waiting for them to start falling. Tobio wonders if it’ll look as magical as it does in the movies, or if something extraordinary will happen. Hinata’s always going on about the supernatural, like there’s something bigger and grander than them in the universe, and oftentimes Tobio doesn’t really care, since he prefers the notion of being grounded, of being in control of what he has—but it’s Hinata, and Tobio tries to take an interest in the things that he likes to put his own bit of effort in, and sometimes it really does catch his attention.

He looks up at the stars, and wonders what they’ll know about the future. If it’ll be as good as Tobio’s hoping, or if this is actually a terrible idea that’s going to crash and burn (though he highly doubts this, because it’s volleyball, and volleyball has always been the one thing Tobio knows for sure he’s good at). He wonders if the stars know where Hinata’s going, or just how far they’ll be from each other after they graduate.

“Hey, Kageyama?” Hinata calls out softly. His freckles mirror the sky above them, and Tobio thinks he’s beautiful. “Can I tell you something?”

Tobio looks at him curiously. “Yeah.”

“Well…” Hinata says, and he scratches his cheek. He’s nervous, Tobio realizes quickly enough, with the way that his eyes keep flickering around. “Just…just know that whatever you say isn’t going to change my mind. I’ve already decided that I’m going to do it.”

“Do what?”

Hinata takes a deep breath, as though he’s summoning the courage to speak the words out loud. Then he sits up, pulling his knees close to his chest. He looks up at the stars, like he’s making a wish, before he sets his summer eyes back on Tobio.

Tobio holds his breath.

“I’m—I’m going to Brazil,” Hinata says finally, his words rushed and blurry, and Tobio blinks, trying to take in what he’d just said. “After we graduate. I’m supposed to take a year off to prepare before I stay there for two years. I’m…I’m going to play beach volleyball. So that I can learn how to do everything.”

Tobio stares, his mind still processing the news. “Brazil,” he states, and Hinata nods, his eyes not leaving Tobio once. He sits up to face Hinata a little more properly. “You’re…going to Brazil.”

“Rio,” Hinata specifies, his lips pressed into a thin line. “Yeah. Yeah, I am. Two years.”

“That’s—” _a long time_ , Tobio thinks. _That’s so far away._ He’d already known that he and Hinata would probably end up in different places far from each other, but this is a whole new level entirely. It’s farther than he ever imagined, and he doesn’t really know what to do in the face of that distance. But he grounds himself with the words that Hinata had said—that this was for volleyball. This was for himself, for his growth—and Tobio can already tell that it’ll be exponential. He’ll be an absolute monster if he can pull it off.

“If I want to beat you on the highest stage,” Hinata continues, fingers picking at the grass, twisting and pulling. “Then I have to get better. This is how I’m going to get better.”

And _oh_ , Tobio thinks, because it’s somehow always like this with the two of them—always trying to get closer to fulfill that promise of theirs. The one where they stand on equal footing on opposite sides of the court, finally strong enough on their own. _Invincible._ It always comes back to that.

So Tobio understands. He’s doing the same thing, after all.

He nods. “That’s a good idea,” he tells Hinata, honest and sincere. It is, and he knows it is. There’s only two people on a team, and the sand will surely help with his jump, plus his already seemingly boundless stamina. A part of him can’t wait to see what happens—if Hinata will become unstoppable. Tobio knows it. “You should do it.”

Hinata smiles at him a little, and for a moment, the tension in his shoulders loosen. Relief, maybe. Something flashes in his eyes—a million emotions that Tobio can’t quite pinpoint, switching from sadness to longing to content to relief again, before settling into something neutral. “Thanks,” he says, the corners of his lips just turned up slightly. It looks like acceptance, Tobio thinks. “I didn’t…I didn’t know how to tell you, at first. I think I was scared.”

Tobio looks confused. “I wouldn’t have stopped you.”

“Not about that,” he clarifies quickly. “I would’ve gone no matter what you thought. Just—” he cuts off, and the blush on his cheeks spread like a constellation, connecting the dots on his cheeks, like a watercolor sky. “It would feel more real, you know? If I told you. I could tell everyone else, but it was…it would be different with you.”

“Why me?”

Hinata just smiles, and Tobio thinks it looks a little lonely. Hollow. Like Hinata wants something that he can’t have, and Tobio only recognizes it because he knows that feeling all too well. “Because it’s you,” he says simply, as if that gives any more of an explanation. “Because it’s always going to be you.”

Tobio doesn’t understand. “That doesn’t make sense.”

Hinata shakes his head, and Tobio knows that he isn’t really going to get much more of an answer. _Brazil,_ he thinks to himself. He’ll have to search up just how many miles away that is. He’s pretty sure it’s on a different continent. Does that mean there’s a different timezone? How often will he be able to talk to Hinata? Will he even still be able to talk to Hinata when he’s off busy at the beach and Tobio’s training in a professional team—

He pauses. Tobio looks at Hinata one more time, his head tipped back to the sky, and remembers that he too has something to say to Hinata. To fulfill his end of the promise. He probably should’ve said it earlier, but there never felt like the right time to say it. But here he is now, stumbling into this slip of time, and he figures that it’s now or never.

“I’m joining the V.League,” Tobio blurts out. Hinata snaps his head back to look at him, surprised. “I was offered. After Nationals, they offered me a spot after I graduate. The Schweiden Adlers.” The name still feels foreign and clunky on Tobio’s tongue. “I said yes.”

Hinata blinks at him, looking a little shocked. Then his eyes grow wide, and he inches closer to Tobio, and the surprise morphs into awe. “ _Gwah!_ Kageyama, that’s _so cool!_ That’s amazing! Why didn’t you tell me?”

Tobio isn’t really sure what to say. He’s relieved that Hinata is reacting to it positively, at least. But even still, just like Hinata, Tobio’s already made up his mind about this. Whatever Hinata would’ve said wouldn’t have changed his mind, but still…Tobio’s relieved to hear it.

“I just did,” he says simply, just to mess with him, and Tobio smiles when Hinata rolls his eyes.

“Oh, don’t be a smartass about it now,” Hinata says, but his lips are quirking into a smile.

“Am I hearing right?” Tobio teases. “Are you finally calling me _smart_?”

“Oh my _god_.” Hinata shoves him, making him topple a little to the right, and Tobio laughs, as Hinata shrieks, trying to tickle Tobio’s sides. They wrestle a little for a bit before Tobio finally concedes, his cheeks hurting with how much he’d been laughing, and Hinata finally lets go of his arms. Settling back into their seats, still wearing matching grins with their faces flushed, Hinata turns to Tobio again, and says, “So the Sch—Schwei—what was the name of the team again?”

“The Schweiden Adlers,” Tobio repeats, feeling the way it leaves his mouth, trying to smoothen it out. “They’re in Division One.”

Hinata’s eyes widen even further, but he keeps picking at the grass before him, wrinkling the blanket. “Do you…” he says softly, a little hesitant. “Where do they stay? Do you know?”

Tobio presses his lips together. “Tokyo,” he answers, and feels the word clip into the air, up into smoke. “So I’ll have to leave to go there, for training and stuff.”

“Right,” Hinata says, nodding. “So.”

“So,” Tobio says back. He looks up at the sky, at the wide expanse. Sometimes, it’s hard to believe that all that stretch of blue covers the whole world, that no matter where you are, it’s still the same sky. It’s a little beautiful.

“Tokyo,” Hinata says, glancing back at Kageyama with a small smile. “And Brazil. That’s far, isn’t it?”

Tobio nods. He doesn’t need to know the numbers to be sure of that. That’s oceans and mountains and cities and towns away. They’d be living in different worlds, but still trying to work the same goal. Something heavy settles inside of him, like a stone dropping down to his stomach, with the simple realization that he really won’t have things be like this ever again. And it’s not the first time, or the last that he will think this. He won’t ever have Hinata so easily next to him, smiling and joking, and he won’t have school to go to the next day. There will come a time, not so far from now, that the only way he’ll be able to see Hinata is through a screen, or he’ll only be able to hear the sound of his laughter through static and phone lines. It’ll happen eventually, whether he likes it or not. Because they both want to keep their word, and neither of them have ever been the type to go back on a promise.

“Two years,” Tobio breathes out. “But you’ll be back, won’t you? You’ll come back?”

Hinata smiles, light and easy, and see, Tobio’s never been all that good with words to begin with. He doesn’t wax poetic, or come up with pretty metaphors. But with Hinata, Tobio swears that all his thoughts rearrange into something spectacular just then, and that he could write sonnets about Hinata’s smile for days on end, and it still wouldn’t be enough. He’s never cared much for poetry, but Hinata could give it a run for its money.

“Of course I’ll come back, dummy,” Hinata says, and his breath comes up in light laughs that make their way home right into Tobio’s heart. “I’ve got a promise to keep, remember?”

“You better,” Tobio mumbles, and Hinata grins up at him.

“Awww, are you gonna miss me, Kageyama-kun?”

“Shut up,” Tobio grumbles. His cheeks burn bright red, and he averts his eyes. “Why the hell would I miss you? You’re annoying.”

“And yet you love me anyways,” Hinata says, all cheeky, and completely and blissfully unaware of the effect his words have on Tobio’s heart. He stills and blushes even further, thankful for the cover of the night.

“Dumbass,” he manages to say, his voice cracking, as he looks away. Hinata doesn’t know what he’s saying at all. Of course he’ll miss Hinata. Of course he loves Hinata. Of course he does. He doesn’t really remember a time that he didn’t.

Hinata pokes him in the side, still smiling. “It’s okay, Yamayama,” he says. “You won’t be able to get rid of me that easily.”

Tobio scowls at him, and tries not to think about how he’d probably follow Hinata to the ends of the earth if he asked, or that he’d try to collect the stars for him, bring it down just for him to see. He’d probably bring the moon, too, while he was at it.

Hinata opens his mouth to say something else, but something else catches his attention and he looks to the sky, eyes widening. He tugs at Tobio’s arm insistently, exclaiming, “Kageyama, look! Look! It’s starting!”

Tobio does what he’s told, looking up to the heavens, and finds the sky is exploding. Slowly, stars begin to fall from their positions, tumbling down into the earth like it’s an old home, hurtling at terminal velocity, and ready to take all that they’ve been waiting for. It looks nearly miraculous, with a million things happening at once, a thousand colors bursting at the seams, finally springing out of the dark sky. And maybe Hinata was right, Tobio thinks, and it looks magical, extraordinary, and supernatural all at once. His heart has never felt so light and wonderful, and Tobio doesn’t think he’s ever seen anything more beautiful in his life.

But then he turns his head, looks over at how the colors spill into Hinata’s skin like he’s a glowing inferno, and knows in that instant that he’d been mistaken.

Hinata’s got his eyes on the sky, sparkling brighter than any of the stars, flecks of gold and silver glittering in them. _Otherworldly,_ Tobio thinks, his mouth dry. Hinata’s skin is glowing even in the dark, the freckles a constellation that becomes home to the falling stars, forever sprinkled with stardust, and his hair turns him into something spectacular and solar. Tobio thinks that Hinata Shouyou is a world wonder all on his own, and that scientists really ought to get on it and write his name down on the list. He’s phenomenal and bright and beautiful, and there is nothing greater Tobio’s eyes will ever see.

Hinata’s smile lights up as bright as the heavens, and on Tobio’s tongue there is a prayer ready to be spoken, filled to the brim with worship and praise. Tobio’s never even been to church, not once, and Hinata Shouyou is by no means a god, but Tobio thinks he’s falling in love with one anyway.

Hinata turns to him then, his grin bright enough to split the sky in half. “Don’t forget to make a wish!” he exclaims, and the unparalleled joy on his face makes Tobio’s heart burst in ways that it never has before. He wants so, so badly, to be able to have this all the time. He wants to have Hinata by his side, to wake up next to him, to be able to take his hand and hold it tight. He wants to hug Hinata, and press Hinata’s wrist against his lips so gently, and squish his cheeks, and maybe even kiss him on the nose. He wants all of these so badly, and to know that he’ll never have it, now more than ever when such a great distance looms over their heads to separate them, and Tobio’s lungs are aching. _Look at how long this love can hold its breath,_ he wants to say, _look at this. It’s all for you._ And Tobio wants and he wants and he’s never wanted anything more in his whole life, just to _have this._

He’s always loved in shades of wrong.

 _I wish,_ he thinks, and he knows that these things probably don’t come true, he’s not a believer like Hinata is, but he’s doing it anyway. And maybe that says something, that he’s going to do this, say something else when he knows he should wish for something more volleyball-related, like becoming the starting setter, or getting along with his teammates—but aren’t Hinata and volleyball the same thing? Aren’t they so irreversibly intertwined that Tobio can’t ever see one without the other? Isn’t this still volleyball? Isn’t this still a life being held?

So call him desperate, call him reckless, call him a foolish teenager in love, but Tobio already knows all of those things. He knows that he will probably never be enough for Hinata Shouyou, and that he’s never going to be what he deserves, but he still wants this anyway. Tobio’s always been selfish, and maybe he learned to fix it in volleyball, but for this, he can’t change that. He doesn’t know how to do anything but yearn at this point, to want and to need and to crave. He doesn’t know how to do anything but love.

 _I wish,_ he thinks, and he’s not looking at the stars because this isn’t anything they can control. _I wish,_ and instead he’s looking at Hinata, at this golden boy of Miyagi, about to head into a whole different world, so incredibly far out of reach. _I wish,_ and Tobio’s heart speaks of one thing, of one great wish that encompasses everything else. He wants just one thing.

_I wish I could tell you._

That’s all he wants. Because for every little detail about his life that Tobio’s found himself telling Hinata, this is the one thing he’s kept to himself for so long. He remembers telling Hinata about Kazuyo, remembers Hinata meeting Miwa, and thinks about how much lighter he’d felt, to have Hinata understand what he meant. He’s told Hinata everything except this, and for this feeling to be greater than anything he’s ever experienced, he wants to be able to say it. He wants to be honest about this. He wants to take Hinata by the shoulders, hold his hand and place it on Tobio’s chest, just so that Hinata could feel just how quickly Tobio’s heart races when he’s around. _Do you feel that?_ he’d say. _This is the way I feel for you._ Because it’s the grandest and most powerful thing he’s ever felt in his goddamn life, and to not be able to tell Hinata—who he tells _everything_ to _—_ it makes him feel like he’s drowning. He’s drowning in his stupid ocean, and it’s been years now, but he still can’t find land. He wants to be able to say it.

Maybe if his love was any less stronger, he’d be able to talk about it more.

(He wonders what Hinata wished. He wonders if he wished for Tobio too, but if he did, Tobio would say that Hinata didn’t have to, because he’s already here and he always has been and he wants to stay.)

But then Hinata is smiling as he looks back at Tobio, with that expression he keeps trying to understand but can’t, a little bit of longing and content and sadness mixed in, and Tobio can’t bring himself to say it. He can’t. He’s selfish but he doesn’t lack kindness, and he could never do that to Hinata. Not now, when they’re finally nearing the end of the road. Not now, and maybe not ever.

Tobio’s heart is in his throat when his hand finds Hinata in a sudden boldness, and Hinata looks a little surprised, a blush blooming like a rose garden at the peak of spring, but he doesn’t pull away. He squeezes their hands together three times, smiling with a softness Tobio could never put into words. Then, to Tobio’s even greater surprise, Hinata shifts in his seat, moving over to sit right in between Tobio’s legs, his back pressing into Tobio’s chest.

“It’s warmer like this,” Hinata murmurs, as both of his hands find Tobio’s, connecting them and placing them right before his stomach. “Comfier, too.”

Tobio feels like he’s dying. “Yeah,” he croaks out. He forces himself to relax, but all he’s thinking about is how he must really be dead now, because he’s holding Hinata in his arms, and it feels like heaven and so much more nicer than he could’ve ever expected. It’s warm and smooth and nice, and Tobio could probably stay like this forever, and he’d be perfectly fine that way for the rest of his life.

“We should do this more often,” Hinata says, and Tobio hums in agreement. He relishes in that sentiment, in imagining a time in the future where they’re like this again, where Hinata is as close as can be—before his heart plummets right into the ground when he realizes the reality he’s in. Because even if they wanted to, time won’t be kind to their _more often._ Time will take and take until it’s all gone, and it’s with a sinking feeling that Tobio realizes that this will probably be a once-in-a-lifetime wonder.

So he’ll take it. He’ll take what he can get for now, holding Hinata and feeling his warmth set him on fire. He’ll stay afloat just for a couple moments to watch as the lighthouse spots him in the dark and tries to pull him ashore. He’ll wrap his arms around Hinata a little tighter as they watch the stars disappear into the horizon, and he won’t think about how friends definitely don’t do this, or sit this close, or promise each other a future of ten or twenty years without knowing it. Tobio will take it, will rest his chin on Hinata’s shoulder and tuck his face into the crook of his neck, and think about how he fits perfectly like he’s always belonged there. He’ll take this, and he’ll say to Hinata in the quietest corner of his mind, _We were something, don’t you think so? This was good while it lasted. This was so good._ He’ll resign himself to this unrequited love once more, and settle with loving Hinata Shouyou from afar, just like he’s always done.

It feels like he’s in a sea of lovers, losing time and losing hope. He doesn’t know if he’ll ever find a way out.

Hinata squeezes Tobio’s hand as the stars come falling down, and Tobio will learn to love the sky for being the same one above them, no matter how far they go.

And they believe that the end is coming, closer and closer as the days go by. Because they promised to rewrite it, and this is how it goes.

Spring comes in a flurry, dropping pink cherry blossoms all over the concrete where flowers bloom in the cracked pavement. The air is crisp and fresh, signaling the end of an era making way to a grander, newer beginning, and the whole world seems to be in agreement. The sky grants them a clear blue with fluffy white clouds, a picture perfect painting for a sunny day. Just the right kind for the ending to unfold.

The graduation ceremony is long and arduous, and Shouyou can barely find it in himself to sit still the whole time. He looks around him, at all the familiar-looking faces he’s spent the last three years with—some he will remember for as long as he lives, and some he might never see again. It feels a little weird to think about it, that once this is over they’re officially free of it, and that it won’t ever be like this again. He won’t have to wake up early to go to school, and he won’t have to head over to the gym to beat Kageyama. It’ll be different from here on out.

And Shouyou knows he’ll miss it. He’ll miss everything about it. Even if the tests were hard and he nearly drove himself crazy trying to memorize all the math formulas, there were a lot of really good things too. He’ll miss the sound of papers on a desk, the rumble of a teacher on a sleepy day when no one’s really paying attention, the sliding of the classroom doors during lunch time. He’ll miss the afternoon breeze that sweeps him away on the rooftop, the soft whispers and murmurs that echo throughout the classroom during a lesson, the relief when the day is finally done and he can get to practice. He’ll miss racing with Kageyama in the morning, going over to Yachi’s place to study, and eating lunch with Yamaguchi and Tsukishima. He’ll miss taking his kouhai out for pork buns even when he’s nearly broke, but doing it anyway because it’s what the third-years before him always did. He’ll miss seeing the team grow and change into something magnificent and striking that he knows no one will ever mistake them for weak ever again. He’ll miss standing by the gym’s doorway and watching the sky, thinking about what it holds for him. He’ll miss all those things, all those little details that made up his days. He’ll miss them.

 _So remember,_ he tells himself. _Remember this moment. Remember this feeling._

Slowly, one by one, they all get called up into the stage. It’s like their crowning moment, their time of glory, after standing on the sidelines for so long, just waiting for all of this to happen. It’s not long before Shouyou’s name gets called for him to receive his diploma, and he stands there, in the middle of the stage, wearing the widest grin he can manage. He feels accomplished and proud that he’s made it this far. He’s finally graduated. He’s going to _Brazil._

The audience cheers, clapping politely as Shouyou takes his bow and exits the stage, his diploma in hand. It feels surreal to finally have it with him, like a trick of the light to prove that it’s unrealistic. But the weight is solid in his hands, proof that he’d done it, he _graduated,_ and now all he has to do is await the future that’s laid before him. His chest feels like bursting, even as he takes his seat, waiting for the others to have their moment too.

A little later, after his family’s found and congratulated him, and after he’s done taking a million pictures with Natsu and his mom to commemorate the event, Shouyou goes off in search of his friends. He stops by some and takes even more photos with his classmates, throwing peace signs up in the air and grinning, telling a couple of them to stay in touch. He makes promises that he’ll do his best to keep, just like he always does, wearing them like rings around his chest, tucking them away to save in his memory. He talks and he laughs and he cries a little bit, throwing his shoulders around friends, and tries to keep it all together.

It’s only a couple more minutes until he finally spots the rest of them—Yamaguchi, Yachi, and Tsukishima are standing below a cherry blossom tree, their cheeks pink enough to match the leaves. He approaches them quickly, half-running over to them and tackling them all in the biggest hug he’s ever given.

They nearly topple over with the weight, and Shouyou laughs, a bright and easy sound that releases a little bit of the pressure in his chest. Yachi’s giggles fill the air with a sweetness no breeze could ever beat, and Yamaguchi’s chuckles are grounding beneath his feet, keeping him steady on his toes as he pulls away to grin up at all of them. Even Tsukishima looks a little solemn today, and he doesn’t even say a single word to insult Shouyou, or complain about the hug—and that, in itself, is enough to tell Shouyou just how he’s feeling exactly.

He feels the same way.

“I can’t believe we did it,” Yamaguchi says, a little breathless, placing his hands on his hips as he tips his head back, like he’s taking in the whole new world that they’ve just stepped into. _A new beginning_ , that’s what the vice principal called in his speech, going on even after his wig had unknowingly slipped too far of his head. _A chance to start anew._

“I’m so proud,” Yachi says, clapping her hands together. She looks at Shouyou with a relieved smile. “And Hinata, you didn’t fail a single one of your finals!”

“I know!” Shouyou says back, just as excited as he remembers the giddiness he’d felt when he’d gotten all his test scores back and found out that he passed all of them. “But I couldn’t have done it without you.”

Yachi smiles, pink dusting her cheeks gently. “You and Kageyama—this team, you’ve done so much for me. It was the least I could do.”

“Oh! That reminds me,” Yamaguchi says, snapping his fingers. “The kouhai said they wanted to meet with us after the ceremony to say their proper goodbyes. They’re probably looking for us right now.”

“We should get going, then,” Yachi says.

“Wait, where’s the King?” Tsukishima says, stopping them all in their tracks. He looks at Shouyou, with an eyebrow raised. “I thought he’d be with you.”

“No,” Shouyou says, shaking his head. He moves to stand on his tiptoes, trying to see above the sea of people for a familiar head. “I haven’t seen him since the ceremony. I thought you guys would know where he was.”

Yamaguchi looks around, but he frowns when he doesn’t find anything. “Maybe he’s still with his family?”

Kageyama had told Shouyou that Miwa would be here today, so it’s possible—but then he spots her in the crowd a couple of feet away, and there’s no sign of Kageyama in sight.

“No, I don’t think so,” Shouyou says.

Yachi bites her lip. “Where could he be? Where would Kageyama go?”

“The bathroom?” Tsukishima offers. “It’s plausible.”

Then finally, the answer comes to Shouyou. And it’s so painfully obvious that he doesn’t know why he didn’t think of it sooner. There’s only one other place that Kageyama Tobio would be other than where he’s supposed to, and Shouyou knows it because it’s the exact same way for him too. Maybe it’s a last hurrah of sorts, or for the sake of nostalgia and holding on, but Shouyou understands anyway. He’d wanted to run away to go there as well, before the ceremony started. He wonders if he would’ve found Kageyama there too, if he’d gone earlier. Shouyou had only seen him when he was standing on the stage, looking a little uncomfortable with all the attention, but pleased and happy about graduating all the same.

“I know where he is,” Shouyou says, and all three pairs of eyes immediately snap back to him with curious expressions. Shouyou offers them no answers, though, as he starts to turn around. “You guys can head on without me! I’ll go get him, and we’ll follow right after!”

“Hinata, are you sure?” Yachi asks, nibbling on her bottom lip.

Shouyou shoots her a thumbs up in reassurance. “Yeah!” he says, and he starts lightly jogging away, until the sound of the crowd softens behind him, fading into muted colors as he walks down a familiar path. Shouyou would probably know these roads anywhere, and could walk right on it blindfolded without having to check what’s behind him. He’s there within a matter of seconds, rounding the corner with his heart racing in anticipation.

He hears the sound before he sees it.

The spinning of the ball, six times for precision and accuracy, before it’s tossed right up into the air by careful setter hands.

Shouyou doesn’t even hesitate to move as Kageyama spikes down the ball, jumping right into the middle to receive it with his arms. The impact stings against his skin, and he watches as the ball bumps right back into the air, before it falls close to the net—right where the setter would be. Shouyou stands back up properly, satisfied, as he looks over at Kageyama.

Kageyama just stares at him with wide eyes, clearly surprised that he hadn’t expected to see Shouyou here. He’s not wearing his jacket, but neither is Shouyou, discarded on the ground a couple of feet away. He blinks, his mouth open just slightly agape, and isn’t it just funny, Shouyou thinks, that this is all a little like how they met for the second time? Right here in this very gym. A jump serve and a missed receive; but now, a jump serve and a well-done receive. The world has a funny way of working out sometimes.

Shouyou stands a little straighter. “How long have you been here? The others are waiting for us. Even Tsukishima was looking for you,” he tells Kageyama, taking a couple steps forward and bending under the net to stand on the same side. “We’re supposed to meet with them after I found you.”

_Aren’t I always finding you?_

Kageyama just shrugs, loose around the shoulders. “I just wanted to be here,” he says, picking up the stray volleyball and twisting it in his hands. “For old time’s sake.”

Shouyou can understand that. This is the gym he’d grown up in, after all. It had been harsh and kind to him at the same time, and he’s grown to think of it as a second home.

“Well,” Shouyou says, and he takes the ball from Kageyama, feeling the texture under his fingers. With just a little more time, he’s sure that he’ll be able to hold a volleyball with just one hand. “Then what about you toss to me one more time? For old time’s sake?”

Kageyama rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling anyway, his agreement shining through. “You act like I didn’t just toss to you yesterday.”

“It’s been _years,_ Kageyama. _Years.”_

He shakes his head, and smiles fondly and softly. “Stupid.”

Shouyou grins. He doesn’t know if he’ll ever have this again, to be honest. If Kageyama is going to be leaving for Tokyo soon to train with the professionals, and if Shouyou is preparing for Brazil, he doubts that they’ll be able to have it this easy between them again. He can’t be sure that he’ll ever have Kageyama toss to him ever again, not if he asks.

 _Hold on,_ he thinks, as he backs up, the ball in his hands. _Make it last._

And looking at the view ahead of him—Kageyama standing by the net, poised and ready to set, the curve of his back elegant and sharpened, his eyes on Shouyou, with the rest of the court standing out behind him like a stage, the windows bleeding light into the orange walls and cracked ceiling—nothing has ever been more familiar. The sight of the open door in the corner of his eye, where the rest of the world lies in wait for them, the gentle wind that seeps through his legs, the sun shining and peeking in to watch them. The clock ticking at the top, covered with bars and counting the seconds they have left before it ends. The squeak of the floor against his shoes as he throws the ball over to Kageyama and runs, knowing that the ball will be there at his point of contact almost effortlessly.

It’s almost reflex by now, with Kageyama setting the ball, and Shouyou spiking it down, satisfied with the sting of his palm, itching for more. Perhaps that’s something you never forget, even when you leave high school—that want for more.

They do it again, five times over, to the point it nearly feels like any other practice. That Shouyou is in his volleyball clothes instead of his proper uniform, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and that Kageyama is wearing the sky in his eyes as always, meant for greater heights. The familiarity is so ingrained in his bones that Shouyou swears he could do this in his sleep—set the ball up for Kageyama, run, jump, spike. Shouyou never wants it to end.

And maybe it’s because they’re here now, or because they’ve graduated, and they’re in the gym instead of anywhere else, that _it_ comes to him once more, sharper and stronger than before. Overwhelming all his senses, the realization hitting him like a ton of bricks, more painful than ever—the idea that they will never be like this again. He will never have this again. _We will never be here again._

Things won’t be this simple as it is now. They won’t be doing this every day, and Kageyama won’t just be a call away from one toss and another to go. Shouyou won’t be able to throw the ball for Kageyama to toss, for him to spike, and Kageyama’s presence won’t ever be as close as it is now, the proximity steady and unyielding, like an ocean coming to shore with an unstoppable force, or a flame never once flickering. It won’t be the way it is now.

“Kageyama,” Shouyou says, willingly his voice not to crack, and he knows it’s stupid, and that he’s already accepted it, but a stubborn part of him is sentimental and nostalgic and doesn’t want to let go. “Kageyama, I don’t—” He can’t breathe. “I don’t want this to end. I—I’m scared.”

Because as strong as his resolve is, Shouyou is _terrified_. The future is an unknown road before him, and he knows he’s plunging head first into strange waters he’s never seen before. It’s a whole different country with unfamiliar faces and words and places. He doesn’t know what he’ll do without the steady presence of high school and homework and volleyball practices with the team—once he’s in Brazil, he’s all on his own. He doesn’t want this to end, he doesn’t want to deal with the future just yet, he doesn’t—

“I don’t want this to end,” he says again. “I want—I want to keep going. I want to keep eating lunch with you, and walk home with you, and I want to keep hitting all your tosses. I wanna keep making fun of the way you talk when you’re grumpy in the mornings, and I wanna keep staring at the clouds with you. I wanna keep going out for pork buns with the team— _this_ team, the one we built together. I wanna keep playing with this team, with _you_ , and I’m _terrified_.”

Because Shouyou’s been doing this for years now, and he doesn’t know how to stop. How is he just supposed to pull the breaks on everything he’s ever known? How is he supposed to just stop? He’ll wake up in the mornings, but he won’t have to go to school, or ride the mountain pass, or try to race Kageyama to the clubroom. He won’t make fun of Tsukishima when he’s having a bad hair day, and he won’t complain about his studies to Yachi. He won’t be able to play video games with Yamaguchi and bicker over who’s denser between Tsukishima and Kageyama. He won’t have to wait for class to be over, or head to practice, and then what? What happens after that?

He’s always known the end was coming, but no one’s ever told him what happens _after_.

“You don’t have to be,” Kageyama says, and he presses the warmth of his palm against Shouyou’s fingers, with the kind of tenderness that sort of makes him want to cry. “I’ll be there.”

“No, I meant after, when today ends—” Shouyou tries to explain, his tongue feels clumsy in his mouth, but Kageyama cuts him off gently.

“I know,” Kageyama says, and he looks straight at Shouyou, with that same brilliant sky, and the familiarity of it is so achingly wonderful that Shouyou clings to it. “I’ll _still_ be there.”

Shouyou looks up at Kageyama and thinks, that’s a big thing that’s he’s promising. That’s a really big thing, for him to promise certainty over a distance that threatens to take something away from them. And he knows that after volleyball, they are fluent in promise-making, and that every word said is one that they mean, and that Kageyama’s never been the type to speak without certainty. So he must mean this, when he tells Shouyou that he will be there, whether he’s in Miyagi or Tokyo, and Shouyou is in Brazil. He means this.

And Shouyou had meant it too, when he said, _You won’t be able to get rid of me that easily._

Shouyou’s eyes find Kageyama’s, and he tries to remember the first time it happened, when he’d taken Shouyou by storm and told him, _as long as I’m here, you’re invincible._ He tries to remember when Kageyama had turned to him, and promised that he would get the ball to him. He tries to remember the exhilaration after a satisfying spike, thumping through his veins like his very blood, knowing that he’d done just what he’d wanted. And Shouyou remembers, with more clarity than anything, how Kageyama had smiled, wearing pride like a present from the sun, and looked at Shouyou, with an expression that said, _see?_ _I knew you all along._ It’s been so long, but Shouyou remembers. He remembers.

Shouyou takes a deep breath. “Kageyama,” he says, and he manages a smile, wobbly at best, but sincere all the same. “I’m glad that we got to do this.” He squeezes their palms together. “I’m glad that we did this together, all this time.”

Kageyama looks at him, and in his eyes Shouyou sees the world. He understands what happens next.

 _Here comes the ending_.

Because for the first time, Hinata Shouyou does not ask Kageyama Tobio for another toss.

Instead, he picks up his jacket from the ground, slings it over his shoulder with a hand, and walks back over to where Kageyama is. He looks up at him, and smiles, easy and loose, just the same way he’s been doing his whole life. Like he’s spent his whole life just waiting to find Kageyama Tobio in this gym, to learn this boy just as well as he knows himself, and to finally leave it, together.

“It’s time to go,” Shouyou says, and he forces down the overwhelming feelings, the lingering nostalgia that he holds in his chest. “They’re waiting for us.”

Kageyama nods. He smiles, just a little bit, and Shouyou knows that he will carry it with him, like it’s the most precious thing he’s ever held, and he never plans on letting go.

Together, they step out of the gym, and into the sun.

Later, when all the juniors have gone home, leaving the third-years to sit on the steps of the Sakanoshita store, trading stories and jokes, Shouyou feels contentment settle into his bones, erasing any trace of fear and replacing them with a mixed feeling of happiness and wistfulness. He’s still scared, of course, and maybe he always will be, but his perseverance has always been one of his strongest suits, and he knows that he’ll find a way to come out on top. And with the promises that he carries, close to his chest like it’s burrowed a home into his heart, Shouyou knows that he doesn’t have to worry too much. Even if the sand is unkind, or even if it doesn’t work out the way he planned it, what matters is that he tried it, that he’s still trying, and that he doesn’t give up. If he wants to get to anything, he needs to take that leap of faith. It’ll be alright.

He listens as Yamaguchi and Tsukishima bicker over a documentary they’re both fond of, before switching to the topic of the possibility of ghosts existing—Shouyou stands stubbornly by Yamaguchi’s side, and puts up a pretty good fight, if you ask him—and Tsukishima rolls his eyes, helplessly exasperated, but when the light glints of his irises, Shouyou finds the fondness that sparks beneath. Yachi giggles as she and Kageyama watch a video compilation of cute cat clips, watching the way his eyes light up, absolutely mesmerized with them. Shouyou thinks it’s _adorable,_ and remembers that time they’d gone to the pet store—how enchanted and happy Kageyama had looked, that a kitten liked him. It’s been a long time since he confided in Shouyou that he was worried animals didn’t like him, and they’ve had several instances since then to prove that it’s not all that true.

Yamaguchi even gives Shouyou a turn on the new game he’d downloaded on his phone, and he yells in disbelief when Shouyou beats the level he’d currently been stuck on. Shouyou laughs and feels it all the way down to his muscles when Kageyama asks for a turn in an attempt to beat Shouyou’s score, as competitive as ever, but in the end it’s Yachi who bests them all, smirking with pride. Tsukishima just scoffs and shakes his head, saying that it can’t possibly be that hard, and all four of them howl in laughter when he gets the lowest score, watching as he scowls and turns away, his face as pink as the streaked sky above their heads.

And this is the way things ought to be: sitting in front of Sakanoshita Store, talking and teasing each other with light-hearted jokes, their laughter dancing into the spring sun, just like any other day. Shouyou doesn’t think he can remember a time before this, before the five of them became so closely knitted, their lives so messily intertwined that it’s useless to try and pull away. It’s wonderful like this, light and easy, and Shouyou’s heart turns full, because it should be like this all the time, until the end of their days. And maybe they don’t need overly-sentimental thoughts and words to fill in the gaps of their heartbeats, and there isn’t really any need to try and cover up what they will lose, because it’s in that moment that Shouyou understands, with sharp clarity, that even in a time so full of change, some things will always stay the same.

And this, the five of them laughing and talking like there will always be tomorrow, is one of those things. He has a strong feeling that no matter what happens, or where they go, or where their roads will take them, their paths will always find a way back to each other one way or another. That it’s despite all they’ve overcome—or maybe _because_ of all they’ve overcome—that their lives will always be so irreversibly intertwined and forever changed with all the time they’ve spent together. There is so much of Shouyou that is made up of these four people, and he knows he wouldn’t be the person he is today without them. They’ve all each got a handprint on his heart, and it’ll always stay that way for him.

And right now, Shouyou knows, without a shadow of a doubt, that there’s no other place he’d want to be but here, with his favorite people in the whole world. He’d want to be here even if the world was ending, or even if it was his last day on earth. He’d want to be here, no matter what. This is how it should always be.

But eventually, it comes to an end too. When the sun hangs low enough, the sky bleeding orange on the horizon, they all seem to know that their time’s up without even having to say it. With longing eyes and sad smiles, they all get up from the steps, dusting themselves off to look at each other. They stand on the concrete that they’ve sprouted from, fully bloomed and ready to fly, just about to see where the world takes them.

“I just wanted to say,” Yamaguchi tells them softly, looking sure and grounding, and Shouyou thinks of that boy from their first-year. The shy, freckled boy who was just a pinch server, who worked hard and made his way upwards, who deserved captaincy more than anyone else. Who didn’t need anything else but pride to move forward, who held the stars in the palms of his hands and let them carry him to the sky, like he’d hung them there himself. He thinks of Yamaguchi Tadashi, and the person he’s become, brave and bold and daring. Look at how far he’s come. “That there’s no one else I would’ve wanted by my side more than you guys.”

He takes a shaky breath. “So thank you,” Yamaguchi says, and his eyes are glassy with the threat of tears. “Thank you for the last three years.”

Shouyou can’t help the tears that slip through his eyes, and he wipes them off of his cheeks before he pulls all of them into a hug, squishing his cheek against Yamaguchi’s shoulder. They stumble a little with the shared weight, Shouyou lets out a small laugh as one of his hands clutch Yachi’s, her cheeks wet and pink, and his other finds Kageyama’s on the opposite end. Tsukishima’s even got his arm around Kageyama, and another wrapped around Yamaguchi. Shouyou pulls them close as tightly as he can, squeezing all the love he feels into the hug, grinning into it.

Then after a few moments, he steps back, and lets go.

Tsukishima and Yamaguchi leave together, side by side with the sun on their backs, and Yachi embraces both of them one more time before she takes her leave, her hair glinting golden in the afternoon light. It leaves Kageyama and Shouyou in the front of the store, looking at each other with light hearts and grounded feet, wordless with the way they fall into step, keeping the same pace as they’ve always had.

It comes to Shouyou then, that this is also the last time that he’ll walk home with Kageyama like this. That it’ll be the last time they chase after a pebble they take turns kicking further and further, turning it into a little, meaningless competition; that it’ll be the last time Shouyou tries to walk in a straight line, one foot in front of the other like he’s on a tightrope, while Kageyama watches him from his peripherals. It’ll be the last time Shouyou will watch the way the sunset pools into Kageyama’s eyes, the last hurrah for that immaculate, iridescent color that’s created, something only captured in his irises, as rare as lightning in a bottle. It’ll be the last time he thinks that this kind of love is a once-in-a-lifetime occurrence that he lets himself get swept away by, friction in his ribcage, treacherous and reckless and tragic and beautiful.

And it’s a wonder, really, just how simple it’ll be to put an end into something he’s done a hundred times before. Shouyou looks up at the sky and wonders if the invisible stars knew anything about this and just forgot to tell him, as though they hadn’t remembered to remind him to prepare against the feeling that would invade his lungs at the thought of _last times_ and _endings._ Maybe that’s why phenomenons are called as such—rare and odd, something to live by, to live _into_ , because of how often chances are missed when you’re not looking. And Shouyou’s missed too many of them when he wasn’t paying attention, but he’s going to try and make up for it now, putting every little detail into memory. The placement of the rock before he kicks it, the curve of the road, the sound of the grass rustling, the chipped painting of the lamppost they pass by, the sunset of Kageyama’s eyes, the way the sky is talking to him like the ticking crocodile, reminding him that it won’t be long before the light leaves, finally sleepy and tucking into the night. He watches, and he listens, and Shouyou breathes easy.

“Hey, Kageyama,” he says after a moment, and at this point he doesn’t think he could ever count the number of times he’s said that name, not when he’s used it as a battlecry on his own lips. Instead, Shouyou just points to the sky, at the cotton candy pink. “What do you think? I say panda.”

Kageyama looks confused for just a second, before his line of sight follows the stretch of Shouyou’s hand, and understanding floods through his features. He furrows his eyebrows, scrunching up his nose in thought. “Looks like a volleyball to me.”

Shouyou looks at him disbelievingly. “You think everything looks like a volleyball.”

“I do not,” Kageyama says back. He tilts his head, trying to change his angle. “It just looks very round. It could be anything.”

“Hm,” Shouyou just settles on saying. He points his finger upward again, but this time to the right. “Cross?”

Kageyama nods. “Yeah, I think so.”

To the left this time. “A fish. Maybe a marlin?”

The setter gives him a pointed look. “Don’t all fish just look the same?”

Shouyou just shrugs, and moves his finger again. “Spider.”

“Egg. Sunny side up.”

Left again. “Lightning.”

“Dragon.”

“That’s cool,” Shouyou says, grinning. “On the right. Mountain?”

“Just a triangle,” Kageyama replies back. He squints, and moves his head a little. “But I guess I can see the mountain.”

Shouyou hums, placing his finger under his chin. “Ooh! What about that one?” he says, snapping his fingers. “I’d say it was a…dog pooping?”

“What?” Kageyama says, raising an eyebrow. “That’s not—it doesn’t even look like that. How did you even come up with that?”

Shouyou feels a laugh ripple out of him slowly. “Yeah, it does! See,” he says, and he points to the aforementioned cloud again. “See, those are the ears, and it’s got its legs down, like it’s trying to poop.”

Kageyama doesn’t seem convinced. “That’s not a dog shitting.”

Shouyou laughs again, and he skips a little ahead. He used to think that walking a little further would give him a better view of the clouds, and well, old habits die hard. “It totally is!” he says, mostly trying to just get a reaction of Kageyama. “And that one next to it looks like a cat peeing.”

Kageyama blinks at him. “You’re ridiculous,” he says, shaking his head, and the hand that he brings up to rub his face almost hides the smile on his face. _Almost—_ Shouyou’s well-practiced in looking for them. “That’s—no, it’s definitely not. You don’t _actually_ see that, do you?”

Shouyou just smiles at him mischievously. “I do!” he says, even though at this point the clouds really just look like random blobs, and he _had_ mostly just said it just to get Kageyama’s attention. “I don’t understand how _you_ don’t see it!”

“Because it’s not there!”

“No, no, it is! I swear!” Shouyou says, and he can’t help the laughter that bubbles out of him, making him tip his head back and clutch at his stomach. Kageyama is looking at him, and he really does look like the sky, Shouyou thinks, with the pink a reflection on his cheeks. What strange magic.

He holds his hand up, like he’s swearing an oath. Trying not to snicker, he says, “No, no, it’s true. I, Hinata Shouyou, one hundred percent believe that the cloud looks like a dog pooping.”

Kageyama stares.

Shouyou breaks—he bursts out laughing, feeling his cheeks start to hurt with how hard he’s smiling. And it seems that Kageyama can’t help it, either—his laughter starts soft and quiet, before it grows into something louder, like the rumbling of a gentle wind, and Shouyou feels like he’s falling in love for the first time all over again. Kageyama laughs, and Shouyou thinks it sounds like an angels’ chorus. He’s never even been to church, not once.

 _Mission successful,_ he thinks to himself, because at the end of the day he’s still trying at it. He’s still a believer in this, even without knowing why, because there really isn’t a point anymore, but Shouyou finds himself unconsciously doing it anyway. Maybe it’s a habit, or a symptom of not being able to move on, but Shouyou’s still doing everything he can to see Kageyama smile. He’s never been a natural at it, of course, so all he can do is try and try and try again, and he feels like he’s still on that tightrope, trying to get to the other side where Kageyama stands. Still on that trapeze, learning what it’s like to fly and fall at the same time without fearing the drop.

And Shouyou knows that the end is near, but here he is anyway, still trying everything to get Kageyama laughing at him. Still trying to get Kageyama Tobio to look at him, if only just for a little longer.

Still trying.

Maybe this, too, will never change. Maybe he doesn’t want it to.

“Dumbass,” Kageyama says after he’s done laughing, still wearing that smile, and in all honesty, Shouyou can’t think of the last time he said that nickname with malice instead of a tender fondness that gets Shouyou’s heart skipping beats every time.

“Yeah,” Shouyou says, smiling back at him. Their hands brush as they walk, and he holds his breath, wishing that he could just reach out and grab it. Wishing he could intertwine their fingers and never let go. Instead, all he does is tell himself: _remember_ , _remember what he looked like, before the world discovered him. Remember how it was before the world knew his name. Remember what it felt like to be in love with him._

They reach the foot of the hill without meaning to, and the lamppost feels like a beacon, a lighthouse that they stand under as the sky fades into something darker. Losing time and losing light, Shouyou takes a deep breath. It won’t be over completely, he knows. Of course it won’t be, because he still needs to defeat Kageyama one day. But it _is_ the end of this; it is the end of their high school days and their walks home and their easy bickering. It is the end of this era, of this story, and Shouyou knows that he promised to rewrite it to complete it like this, that this is the ending he picked out, but it’s a lot harder than he thought.

He remembers another time, a night in the winter. When Kageyama had been cold and Shouyou had taken his hands, and placed them together, and when that hadn’t been enough, pressed them to Kageyama’s neck. He remembers taking that same path, and standing under this same lamppost. He remembers what he’d realized that night, and how he hasn’t been able to stumble out of it since. And Shouyou remembers the words that they had said too, and picks them out like it was just yesterday.

“See you later, Kageyama!” Shouyou says, and he grins, wide and toothy, and lets himself feel everything. He lets himself feel the longing and the nostalgia and the satisfaction and the excitement. He lets himself feel everything he’s ever felt for volleyball, for the world, for Kageyama Tobio.

Kageyama just smiles back, just like he had on that winter night, breathtaking and beautiful as always. “Yeah,” he says, so incredibly soft and fond and Shouyou memorizes it too. “See you later.”

Because of course it isn’t a goodbye just yet. They still have the world stage to stand on, and to compete on. They still have so much more to go. So it isn’t _goodbye,_ it’s _see you later,_ because they still have so much more to go. There’s still a later, another moment in time, and that’s where they’ll find each other.

They’ll always find each other.

So when Shouyou finally leaves, he doesn’t turn around. He doesn’t look at what he’s leaving behind, and keeps his eyes on the road shards of him. Because if he’s right, and if he lets his determination take hold, it isn’t over yet. Not this, and not them. Not yet.

There’s still a little more left.

“Unboiled water!” Natsu yells suddenly, pointing a finger right up at Shouyou.

He doesn’t really get it, before it clicks, and he lights up in understanding. “I won’t drink it!”

“Inside your pocket!” she yells.

“No valuables should be stored!”

“When you’re in a crowd!”

“Be aware of pickpockets!”

“You passed!” Natsu exclaims with a curt nod, satisfied. Shouyou beams, and twirls Natsu in the air, and she giggles, squeezing her eyes shut in delight.

When he sets her back down, Shouyou sees the confusion on his friends’ faces, and thinks that it’s a little amusing, smiling slightly. “It’s her Brazil test,” he explains, with a light shrug. Natsu’s taken to quizzing him randomly about the things his mom’s warned him about just to be sure.

Yamaguchi laughs, his eyes watching Natsu as she walks over to Kageyama’s side, tugging at his shirt to whisper something in his ear. It’s probably not all that serious, Shouyou thinks, as she points to a crack in the pavement, where a small sprout begins to bloom.

“She’s more reliable than you are,” Yamaguchi says.

“Hey!” Shouyou says with a slight pout, crossing his arms. “I’ll be fine.”

“Just don’t die,” Kageyama says simply, and he hears Yamaguchi snicker.

Shouyou shoots a glare at him, rolling his eyes. Tsukishima looks amused too, eyes filled with mirth, the corners of his lips slightly upturned.

“You guys have such little faith in me,” he whines, feeling a little like a child. “I’m not going to _die._ I’ll be perfectly fine, you’ll see.”

“Are you sure you have everything you need?” Yachi asks him a little worriedly. She glances over at Shouyou’s suitcase, bright yellow, like most of his belongings. Kageyama had come with him to pick it out, and Shouyou thought it would stand out well with all the other bags in case it ever got lost.

“Yup!” Shouyou says, and he digs something out of his pocket, his tongue sticking out of his mouth. “Look! Natsu even got me a new wallet,” he tells them proudly, showing off the gift. His sister had given it to him a few days earlier, saying that it was time he got a cooler one. Shouyou absolutely loves it.

In his other hand, Shouyou holds out his phone, waving it a little for them to see. “My passport’s in my backpack. I already checked it twice, don’t worry.”

That seems to relieve Yachi a little bit, and she smiles softly. Shouyou’s touched that she’d worried for him, of course, and he’s entirely grateful that they’d all come to see him off.

“The bus should be here in a couple of minutes,” she says loudly, and Shouyou has a feeling that it’s for everyone to hear, not just for himself, like a countdown of sorts of how much time they have left.

“Do you think he’ll miss his bus?” Tsukishima asks teasingly, a light smirk on his lips, and Yachi elbows him lightly. “What if he gets lost at the airport?”

“I’m not going to get lost at the airport!” Shouyou exclaims, huffing a little bit. He turns to Kageyama, looking for moral support. “Right, Kageyama?”

“You better not,” Kageyama says, and Tsukishima snickers lightly into the back of his hand. Bold words from him, Shouyou thinks. He still hasn’t forgotten the story of how Kageyama had nearly gotten lost on his way to the All-Japan Youth training camp back in their first year.

Shouyou grumbles a little to himself as his eyes catch on the clock. Yachi is right—there’s only a few more minutes before the bus is scheduled to come by. He doesn’t have much time left before he has to leave, and his heart won’t slow down on his chest—excited and nervous at the same time. But it feels a little melancholic too, that all the people he cares about are here, gathered in one spot, just for him. Shouyou appreciates the sentiment greatly. He doesn’t know what he’d do if he was alone. He won’t admit it out loud, but he’d probably miss the bus, just like Tsukishima said.

It’s a little terrifying, to be honest.

But Shouyou swallows that feeling down before it threatens to overwhelm him. He can’t let that take control now. He’s already so close, on the verge of something new and grand. On the precipice of a whole new chapter on his life, and he can’t wait to see where it goes. He’ll be just fine.

Shouyou’s about to go over his belongings one more time, mostly just to give his hands something to do while he waits, when Kageyama approaches him, looking a little sheepish. His eyes don’t quite meet Shouyou’s, and he looks almost _shy_ , like he’s unsure of what he’s doing exactly. It’s a little cute, Shouyou thinks.

“Um,” Kageyama says, and he shifts his weight to his other foot awkwardly. “I have—I got you something, if that’s okay.”

Shouyou blinks in surprise. “Kageyama, you didn’t have to—”

The setter shakes his head, cutting Shouyou off gently. “I wanted to,” he says, his lips pressed into a thin line, stubborn determination in his eyes. Without another word, Kageyama reaches into his bag, and pulls something out. It’s blue, from what Shouyou can tell.

Kageyama holds it out for him to take, his cheeks turning pink in embarrassment. “I know it isn’t really—it isn’t really your type, but I remember you were complaining about the one you have getting old and worn out, and then I saw this, and I thought that maybe—” Kageyama averts his eyes, looking to the ground, his face blooming red like roses in springtime. “I thought that maybe you would like it.”

Shouyou takes it from him, and his eyes widen when he sees what it is. It’s a phone case, the kind with a flap, and it’s designed exactly like the blue milk boxes Kageyama used to buy from the vending machine every day, complete with the cartoon giraffe on the ground. It’s a little dorky and weird, and Shouyou absolutely _loves_ it.

Without hesitating, he takes his phone out of his pocket, slips off the old case and puts on the new one, clipping it into place with a satisfying click. He holds it out in admiration, unable to stop his face from splitting into a wide grin. “I love it,” he says to Kageyama, beaming up at him. “I love it _so_ much. Thank you.”

“I, um. You’re welcome,” Kageyama says, smiling a little. The blush on his face expands like a river valley in the summer, across the bridge of his nose. It’s beautiful, Shouyou thinks. “You didn’t have to use it already,” he mumbles.

“What? Yes, I did!” Shouyou says. “It’s from you! Of course I’ll use it! Now I’ll be reminded of you every time I see it!”

Kageyama’s blush only seems to deepen even more. He doesn’t seem to be able to say anything more after that, keeping his eyes on the pavement instead of looking at Shouyou.

Still smiling, Shouyou takes a small step closer, wearing a little smile. “Hey, Kageyama,” he says. “Do you know why I look at the sky?”

Kageyama only looks confused, and he furrows his eyebrows in concentration. “Because…” he says slowly, thinking of an answer. “Because you wonder what it’s like to fall from it, right? That’s what you said before.”

Shouyou blinks at him, surprised. That had been such a long time ago—he didn’t expect Kageyama to remember it at all. Shouyou had almost forgotten it himself, like a blurry scene at the back of his mind. Something warm spreads inside of him then, at the idea that his words were significant enough for the setter to remember. He wonders what else he’s forgotten that Kageyama remembers. What else has he missed that Kageyama noticed?

“Yeah,” Shouyou says slowly, still trying to wrap his head around it. “But that’s—that’s only part of the reason.”

Kageyama tilts his head. “Then what is it?”

Casting his gaze to the sky for a moment, flat and clear blue, with the clouds floating slowly, Shouyou thinks that it’s the perfect day for a send-off. He takes a deep breath before he turns back to Kageyama, wearing a little smile.

“It’s because it connects people,” he says, feeling a certain vulnerability echo in the edges of his voice. “It’s such a great wide thing that no matter where you are in the world, you’re always going to be under the same sky with someone else.”

For a moment, he feels nearly invincible, and he takes a step forward, feeling bold enough to take Kageyama’s hands in his own, pressing warm palms against his own, the touch so familiar that it aches something low and wonderful in his chest. “So it means,” he continues, and he looks up to meet Kageyama’s sunlit eyes. He takes in a sharp breath. “That no matter where I am, all I have to do is look up at the sky, and I’ll know that the people I love are looking at the same one. I look at the sky to remember.”

And Shouyou thinks it sounds a little like a promise, like _invincible together_ and _I’ll take it_ and _I’ll still be here._ But it’s what he feels and it’s the truth and it’ll have to be enough for now, even if it isn’t all that concrete or even if it sounds a little strange. It’s all he has right now, and if he could take a piece of the sky and cup it in his hands to keep he would, and he’d break it in half and hand the other to Kageyama. As if to say that a part of him will always be there, even when his words don’t reach over the distance of ten thousand seven hundred and eight-seven miles, even if cityscapes and countrysides stand in between them, like a bridge they can’t cross.

“People you love,” Kageyama says, his voice small and a little bit strained, and Shouyou’s breath catches in his throat. “Am I—am I there?”

Shouyou laughs a little, releasing the air captured in his lungs. “Of course you are, dummy,” he says to Kageyama, because of _course_ he is, so close to the top that his name is always the first to come to Shouyou’s mind when he thinks of the word. “You’re my best friend.”

And even if it isn’t romantic, Shouyou knows that it is still love. There’s always love in all the smallest things, in every step he takes, and every beat of his heart. And he thinks that for Kageyama Tobio, Shouyou would cross mountains and valleys, and he’d reach out and give him the stars. He’d pull them down like a gift, or catch sunbeams in his hands and wrap them up like a present, all for Kageyama. It’s strong and undeniable, and maybe it’s not all like what the movies say it is, maybe it’s not a running-through-an-airport kind of love, but it’s still unbreakable, and nothing will ever be able to change that.

And he thinks that maybe, that this is the kind of love that doesn’t pass. Not if he doesn’t want it to.

Shouyou doesn’t want it to.

Kageyama looks at him with a strange expression, with that sort of determination that Shouyou sees on court, but there’s something else in it—that same thing that’s eluded him for over three years now. And it’s like something within him finally _breaks_ , his eyes squeezing shut tightly, his hand trembling in Shouyou’s hold.

And when Kageyama opens his eyes again, it takes Shouyou’s breath away. It’s the clearest blue he’s ever seen—and Shouyou doesn’t think he’d want any other sky than this one.

Kageyama opens his mouth to speak, taking a deep breath, and his words come out half-formed, almost desperate. “Fuck, okay, I was never going to say it, but there’s—shit. There’s—I’m—this whole time, I—but do you know? Do you know that I—”

“It’s here!” Yachi exclaims loudly, her eyes wide. “The bus is here! It’s coming!”

Shouyou looks at the time again—two minutes left. His heart is beating butterfly-quick again, a drum beat down to the seconds. He turns back to Kageyama, almost desperate. “Kageyama, what—”

Kageyama shakes his head furiously, casting his eyes back down, and it seems as though all the courage he’d built up disappears. Shouyou feels the loss hang heavy over their heads. “I—just—never mind. It’s too late. You have to—you have to go. Your bus is here.”

“Then promise you’ll tell me when I get back,” Shouyou insists, because even without the words, he could feel that it was important. He saw it in Kageyama’s eyes—there was a secret right on the tip of his tongue, and Shouyou needs to know what it was. He grips Kageyama’s hands tighter. “Kageyama, _promise me.”_

Kageyama looks a little hesitant, biting his lip, but then he turns his eyes directly at Shouyou. He nods. “Okay,” he says softly. That look on his face is stronger than ever, filled with a longing that Shouyou desperately wishes he could understand. What was Kageyama going to say? What was it? “When you—when you get back. I promise.”

Shouyou nods, pressing his lips together in a firm line. Then he throws his arms around Kageyama, burying his head in the crook of his neck, and hugging him tightly. Kageyama returns the embrace, his arms around Shouyou’s waist. Shouyou’s heart feels like it’s about to burst.

“You better keep in touch, Bakageyama,” Shouyou says with a sniffle, feeling his eyes prick with tears. “Reply to my texts, you hear me? And answer my calls!”

Kageyama hums, and Shouyou feels the vibrations down to his very bones. “Tell me what the clouds look like up there when you’re in the sky,” Kageyama says, his voice cracking just slightly. “And I’ll take your word for it, no matter how weird you think the shape is.”

Shouyou breathes out a laugh as he lets go, taking a step back and wiping his eyes. “I will,” he says, and Shouyou thinks he should say more, but all the words that he could ever possibly have for Kageyama Tobio always come out in promises, and at the end of the day all he knows how to say to him is _I love you._ He wipes at his cheeks again, stained pink. Taking a deep breath, he says, “I’ll miss you, Tobio.”

Kageyama’s face turns a little pink, but he smiles, curved like a crescent moon. “I’ll miss you too, Shouyou.”

“And when I come back, we’ll meet again,” Shouyou says. “And this time, it’ll be at the top of the world.”

Kageyama squeezes their hands together. “To the top of the world.”

Shouyou looks at him, his heart filled with all the breaths he holds back. He looks at Kageyama Tobio, at the boy who’d managed to catch his attention when all he ever thought about was volleyball, at the boy who changed his life and helped him fly. Shouyou looks at him, the boy who holds his heart and takes care of it, and thinks, _This is where the story ends._ This is how he rewrote it to go.

 _But even if this is it for now,_ he says to Kageyama like a secret, the whisper of his heart. _I will still love you in the meantime._

Shouyou wonders when the next time it’ll be, when he gets to see Kageyama Tobio and his sky eyes again.

Then with one last grin and hand squeeze, Shouyou turns back to the others, and he’s immediately bombarded with more hugs. Yachi wraps her arms around him and squeezes him tight, and Yamaguchi ruffles his hair as he pulls Tsukishima close for an embrace. Takeda and Coach Ukai clap their hands on his shoulders, looking at him with immense pride, and tell him to take care. Shouyou runs up to his mother and presses a kiss to her cheek, and he spins Natsu around in the air, before hugging her tightly and kissing her forehead.

The bus screeches into a halt then, and people step out while others step in, filling up the empty spaces. Shouyou’s heart seizes in his chest. _This is it_ , he thinks. _This is finally it._

Natsu takes his hand and squeezes it thrice, and he holds her tightly before finally letting go. He picks up his backpack and throws it over his shoulders, taking the handle of his suitcase and gripping it tightly. Shouyou takes a deep breath, and looks at all the familiar faces with him.

They smile back at him, a little cluster of a group, ready to send him off. They look at him with pride in their eyes, joyful grins with just a little bit of sadness, and Shouyou grins at them right back. Because he knows that these people here with him, these connections he’s made, they’re something visceral and indelible, and he knows that they’re all tied together with strings that can’t be unbound by distance and time. He knows it, and he holds all that he feels for them in his chest. He’ll take it with him, all the way to Brazil. He won’t be gone for long. He promised, remember? He promised he’d come back.

With one last look, Shouyou turns around, and steps on the bus. He watches them wave at him through the window as it begins to roll away—Yachi’s sunny grin, Tsukishima’s little smile, Yamaguchi’s expression of delight, Kageyama’s sure look of pride, and Natsu carried in his arms, waving her hand high in the air. Shouyou waves back at them until they disappear from his sight, holding the image even as he falls back into his seat, keeping them close to him.

And with the road ahead of him, Shouyou doesn’t look back. This is where he’s going to begin. This is the first step on the ladder.

Here he goes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for all the comments so far!! especially to those who always take the time to write one for each chapter ahhh it really means a lot!! <33 next chapter is the Great Brazil Arc so it's gonna be all about some good ol' long distance pining!!!
> 
> you can find me on [tumblr!](https://superish.tumblr.com) thank you for reading!! <3


	6. home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im so sorry for the wait!! hope you enjoy! <3

> From: Hinata
> 
> _ok so there was a cloud that looked like a pork bun, another one that looked like a snowflake, then a weirdly-shaped flower, a jacket, a huge scary-looking cat face, a cow getting milked (im serious!!!), a crown, and a heart_
> 
> From: Hinata
> 
> _they all reminded me of you_

This is the hardest story he’s ever told.

Shouyou closes his eyes, and takes a deep breath in.

When he exhales, he lets his senses flood him, filling him with the heat beating down his back, the humidity in the air that hangs overhead, the sticky-sweetness of sweat stuck to his body, and the sand an unreliable ally beneath his feet. Everything feels thick, all sharp edges and hard lines, and he’s still adjusting, finding his footing on unfamiliar ground, a foreign language that doesn’t settle quite well into his tongue yet, the shapes mismatched with the syllables when he speaks. It’s a little bit of hell, and a little bit of heaven, the differences a sharp contrast every day that he wakes, and the stars offer no answer when he asks—or at least not one he can understand just yet.

But it’s also those differences that make it less lighter around him. Like there’s less formality and more flexibility, no set rules to ground him, giving him more room to fly when he wants to. He’s still taking a little time getting used to it.

Brazil is everything he’d asked for, and everything he was afraid it would be. It breaks him down and claws at his skin, only to build him right back up and turn him something close to unstoppable, and then tear him down all over again, an unending cycle. Beach volleyball is cruel and unkind, but it’s also freeing and gentle, steady and changing all at once. Consistent in the way that it pushes him past his limits almost constantly, letting him make a fool of himself, tripping on the sand and falling face first into its heat. It’s new and loud and exciting, just like the people and the places and the language. It’s _different,_ and it’s exactly what he needs.

“Gwah!” Shouyou says as he stumbles forward, falling on his chest, but just barely missing the ball as his foot slips on the sand. It hits the ground hard, bouncing back into the air, and the whistle blows. _17-21,_ the scoreboard reads, and Shouyou presses his lips into a thin line, and resounds to do better than next time. _Don’t get impatient,_ he reminds himself as he clenches his fist. He’s improving, even if it’s slow, even if it’s not as great as he expected. The harder it is just means the more potential he has when he overcomes it, and that’s what the goal here is. To get better.

But even he has to admit that it’s a little frustrating too, at times. He’d gone from excelling at spiking and receiving, jumping higher than most of the blockers to barely being able to receive properly again at all. It’s almost like his first year of high school again—except this time he’s running on a two-year time limit on the sand, and the wind blows the ball in directions he can’t always predict. It’s challenging, and Shouyou grits his teeth and bears it, because he doesn’t have any other choice. He’s not _giving_ himself another choice. He has to do this.

After thanking his partner for letting him play with them and congratulating their opponents for a good game, Shouyou checks the time on his watch, and finds that he’s almost late for work. He scrambles then, and runs over to change out of his sweaty clothes and into something fresher, before hopping on his delivery bike.

It’s a little more familiar, this way. Shouyou’s always been used to biking around to get to places, and having to go all over the city is one way to go sight-seeing in a way, to find what lies deeper at the heart. He’d spent his first week in Brazil just going around the tourist attractions and buying souvenirs for his family and friends, and while that was fun, it didn’t last very long, and Shouyou had immediately gotten started on work.

He still gets lost a lot. He’ll never tell Kageyama or Tsukishima that, though, because he knows that they’ll just laugh at him for it, and he doesn’t tell Yachi either since it’ll just make her worry, and he wants to make the rest of them proud. It’s a lot trickier than he’d thought it be, getting thrown head-first into a new environment with just the most basic words on his tongue, and he’s still struggling on getting by. Even his new roommate, Pedro, doesn’t seem to like him very much, or it’s just that he’s shy and not really one for talking—Shouyou would rather it’s the latter, because he thinks it would pretty nice if they were friends, and he’s been told that he has a stubborn habit of worming himself into other people’s lives without really realizing it, like the brightest existence that can’t be denied. So maybe it’ll work out eventually. Shouyou will keep trying, anyway, because that’s always what he’s been best at. It’ll take a lot before he gives up.

And as the days roll by, Shouyou thinks that he’s starting to get a hang of it. Every morning he wakes up with the sunrise, the sky a pale blue as the sun peeks out of the horizon, still getting dressed for the day to come, and he remembers what he’s here for. He’s heard that meditating can be good for you, so he started taking that up too, even though it’s pretty hard to sit still sometimes, and his mind keeps wandering off to different places. Sometimes, he’ll dream he’s back in Miyagi, at home with Natsu curling tiny braids into his hair, pulling back his fringe with a colorful headband, or he’s in Karasuno—spiking at the gym like an infinite loop, or sitting under the cherry blossom tree with his lunch spread out before him. Other times, he’ll be in Tokyo, back at the stadium, and he can imagine the drum beats and the audience cheering, the ball held in his hands, adrenaline pumping through his veins. Shouyou always ends up with a little careless daydreaming, and he tries again and again to keep his head in the game, to focus on one singular thing, and not to reminisce on the past. It’s easier that way.

After breakfast—he’s getting the hang of cooking too, and he’s been searching up different recipes to try out, even if some of them still do end up in disaster—he heads down to the beach. There’s a class that offers to teach yoga for stretching and relaxation, and he’s been considering joining for a while now. Maybe it’ll help calm him down, or he can attempt to find his concentration a little better.

He plays beach volleyball until it’s time for work. He’s still trying to get used to jumping in the sand, finding his center and bringing himself up to defy gravity—they’re still not as solid as he would like, but there’s a shift happening between his feet, he can tell—and he knows that it’s supposed to be less about kicking and more about stepping into the jump, pushing his whole body with it. It’s confusing, and sometimes the frustration builds up so heavily that it makes him feel powerless, shaking every shred of self-confidence he’d ever had. Looking at his palms, he feels the phantom sting of a great spike—and sometimes he wonders if he’ll be able to feel it again here, with the sand underneath his feet and wind changing directions in the split-second of a heartbeat. He wants to be able to feel it again so badly, but he knows that in order to do so he still has a long way to go. To climb up this ladder he needs to keep one foot in front of the other, and he can’t allow anything else to sway him.

Shouyou is going to see this through, even with how difficult it is, or how much he longs for the memories he keeps tucked away. Because this is the path he’s chosen and he’ll stick to it, and he should know better by now, that some days will always be there to get him down, but there will always be others to pull him right back up on his feet. He’ll get through this.

And one day, when he’s ready, he’ll come back home to Japan. He’ll go home, and he’ll beat Kageyama, and he’ll prove his worth as a player. He’ll show them all that he’s learned. He’ll play on a stage on top of the world, and he’ll be the one to stand there the longest.

Shouyou will make them all see him. _Just you wait._

Tobio thinks it’s a little strange.

It isn’t that there’s much of a difference, really—he’s gotten used to it pretty well, since it’s been months now, and it doesn’t bother him all that much. But it comes when he least expects it, falling down on him suddenly, and creeping back into his mind when his guard is down. It curls under his bones and shifts under his skin, and Tobio is left with a sharp ache in his chest, his ribcage stuttering with the weight that it holds. It’s heavy and it hurts, but it always passes eventually. He tries to swallow it back down, over and over again, until he can’t feel it anymore, and all he can do is wait until it starts up again when he’s not looking.

It’s such an odd thing, missing people. But Tobio’s used to it.

He’s experienced it before with Kazuyo. It had been a dull ache that came with the knowledge that his grandfather wasn’t ever coming back, that he would never see him again, and it took Tobio months to finally settle down into his scars. It still hurts, if he thinks about it too long, or if his memories are a little sharper—but on most days it’s much kinder, much softer, tinged with fondness and nostalgia, and Tobio learned how to keep it in his chest like a light balloon, cherishing it whenever he can. It’s better now. It’s an old kind of missing: the kind that never leaves, but it doesn’t hurt for it to stay anymore, either. He learned to live with it a long time ago. He’s moved forward with it.

But this one’s strange. Different. This one feels like he carries it with him all the time, but it only comes out every so often. Like a stirring that doesn’t fully wake until he’s all alone, revisiting old memories and stories, and making him wonder if everything would be different if just one little thing had changed. If he’d been a little more braver, a little more reckless, and a whole lot more foolish. What would be things like then?

He knows he’d probably still be here, in a training camp to prepare for the Olympics, holding pride and trust in each of his hands, standing tall and fearless with a ball tucked close to his chest. He’d still be here because it’s what he’s worked for, it’s everything he’s dreamed about. But this is about other things. This is about someone else—not him, but someone who knows him better than he knows himself, who’s chasing after his dreams, working tirelessly and running breathlessly around the world like a wayward fiery sun, and who won’t stop until he gets there. Someone who Tobio trusts will be able to catch up to him in no time, and who Tobio knows will have been worth all the time and effort.

Somehow, for Tobio, it always leads back to Hinata Shouyou.

Tobio won’t admit it to the boy himself—he has a feeling Hinata knows anyway—but he does miss Hinata. He misses him, which is dumb and stupid, because it’s not like Hinata’s _gone_ , he’s just on the other side of the world. Which makes it a little worse, in Tobio’s opinion, in a way that’s different to how he’d felt about Kazuyo, because the circumstances are different, and he can’t really compare it when this is a whole separate matter entirely. But it feels worse, because it means that Hinata is still there, still reachable, but he’s so far away. He’s across oceans and lands and mountains, and Tobio’s gotten so used to having Hinata around constantly that it feels like he’s missing something when he doesn’t have him around.

It was fine back then, during the year that Hinata had been preparing for Brazil, and Tobio was starting out at the V.League, because at least then they were still in the same country, still within the same timezone. Hinata would still send him random texts in the middle of the night, like online quizzes and conspiracy videos, and Tobio could still message back and order him to go to bed. But now that Hinata’s in Brazil, he’s a lot busier with beach volleyball, and Tobio knows that adjusting to his new life can’t possibly be easy. The messages come less and less frequent, and Tobio finds himself checking his phone often for texts that aren’t there.

But he can’t keep the blame solely on Hinata, either. With the Olympics coming up just around the corner, he’s been practicing a lot more—making sure to perfect his jump serve to the best of his ability, and learning how all his teammates like their tosses best. Tobio’s always been a hard worker, but people always seem to forget that fact in the face of something they call prodigious, and he’s settled on simply proving them wrong, time and time again. He does his best to message Hinata back, as simple as his words are, short greetings and pictures of cats he sees, but it’s a habit he still hasn’t mastered, and he still falls short of it at times.

Which just leaves him here, with his heart scrabbling for purchase on his ribcage, still relearning the days without the sun by his side. Still trying to bridge the gap between normal and strange, like finding the right height for a toss but never achieving that golden trajectory. So far, it’s an attempt he hasn’t been able to call a success.

Tobio has also yet to explain the conundrum of Hinata Shouyou: the way he refracts light like a miracle, his smile a flare of the sun, born of like a god of summertime and living just like one. Tobio’s still trying to find an answer to the way Hinata stumbled into his life unapologetically, unknowing of all that he had unraveled just by existing. How he’d pulled Tobio out of the ocean and tied him to a kinder religion.

Isn’t it terrible to miss someone like that? This is falling in love in the cruelest way, worlds away from each other. Tobio doesn’t know what to do with it. He thinks that he should by now, or at least have the decency to tuck it into his deepest pocket, and learn to control when it’ll pop back out. But it’s hard, and he’s trying, and it seems to have a mind of his own. In volleyball, Tobio prides himself in being a setter, in the way he is able to control the court, direct where the ball is to go. Figure out the ascent and cushion the descent. He understands, and he orders around. But with _this_ —feelings do not listen the way a ball does. Feelings are wild and thorny flowers growing inside his throat, blooming in the sight of the sun, attuned to where it goes and the distance that grows between them. And with it now so far away, a whole ocean apart, they know to ask and beg and plead for the attention that Tobio cannot give them. And so they ache and they pulse, and Tobio’s doesn’t know what to do to get them to settle down. He swallows around the feeling, and hopes that the next set he calls will be one he can control.

He hasn’t been so lucky.

It should be easier, shouldn’t it? He tells himself that he spent fourteen years of his life without Hinata, and that he should be able to do it again. But then he’s reminded of the time that he’d lived before Hinata had challenged him in front of a public bathroom, and remembers what it had been like then, when he’d been titled a solitary king with winter eyes and a selfish heart. He remembers how it felt like he’d still been missing someone the whole time, except he couldn’t figure out who. His life had changed because of a sunset-eyed firestarter, and Tobio thinks that he really shouldn’t be so sure about things like this, not as young as he is, nineteen and still a little unsteady, but he knows that he’s changed for the better because of Hinata. Tobio had been a boy made of compartments, categorizing and superimposing, keeping things straight and easy to read, but then Hinata had shattered it all and taught him how to live in watercolor, and showed him how much easier it was to breathe if you let things fall into place without trying to cut yourself on the edges.

So this is his honest truth, even without the teaspoons of romance, that Tobio’s life had become a whirlwind of harsh hurricanes and invincible promises all because of one boy. He’d thought that coming to Karasuno would mean that he could finally bury his crown six feet under and leave it all behind, but then Hinata had come along to make a mess of his plans, saying that it was never a bad thing, not really, and what’s a little rain compared to a king anyway?

So let’s call it another truth, then, that Kageyama Tobio misses Hinata Shouyou. Let’s disguise it and call it a secret revelation for his sake, one that he will never admit it out loud. Let’s call it a promise, just as things always are between them, that he will wait. Let’s call it patience and strength and pride. Let’s call it fate and a bit of love. Let’s call it trust.

Trust, that when Hinata said he would come back, he will, and that Tobio will hold him to it. Because neither of them have forgotten that it’s trust that’s gotten them this far to begin with—back when Hinata had stumbled into blind faith for Tobio’s tosses, and to when they’d played their last game together, _Hinata and Kageyama’s freak quick strikes again._

Trust, that while they are apart they are still growing and changing, and that this will all amount to something greater one day. Because it is not always going to be about each other the way it must sometimes be about themselves, the way a river flows through smooth and bumpy waters. It isn’t always going to be about this, about missing Hinata and the way things used to be, and Tobio will get used to the feeling in his chest whenever he wakes to see the sunrise, and is instantly reminded of a boy he’d met back home, whose smile could easily rival any dawn. But maybe sometimes it will be, because volleyball is Hinata is volleyball, and Tobio doesn’t know how to separate one without the other, and he doesn’t ever want a life where he has neither. So he’ll have it at times and at others he won’t, and he’ll get through the days just the same. He’ll play at the Olympics. He’ll hold his head up high. He’ll trust Hinata.

He’ll trust that Hinata understood when he told him, _I’ll be going on ahead._

He’ll trust that Hinata knew it meant: _I’ll be waiting._

After all, Tobio’s already been waiting his whole life. What’s a little more?

> From: Hinata
> 
> _KAGEYAMA!!!! what time is it there??_
> 
> To: Hinata
> 
> _It’s two in the morning dumbass_
> 
> From: Hinata
> 
> _oh sorry!!!!_
> 
> From: Hinata
> 
> _just thought we could video call or something_
> 
> To: Hinata
> 
> _We can do it later if you want?_
> 
> To: Hinata
> 
> _Are u free in six hours_
> 
> From: Hinata
> 
> _ill be at work later :((_
> 
> To: Hinata
> 
> _Oh_
> 
> To: Hinata
> 
> _Next time then?_
> 
> From: Hinata
> 
> _next time for sure!!_

Shouyou is having a terrible day.

He’s having an awful day, but he refuses to acknowledge it’s bad, because then it might get even worse, and that won’t get him anywhere at all. Instead, he’s just trying to grit his teeth and bear it, and waiting for the day to end already. It could be worse, he tells himself. It could always be worse. There could be a storm over his head, the rain coming down in sharp blisters as he tries to navigate the tricky cobblestone streets and low-hanging trees. There could be a swarm of bees following him wherever he goes, chasing after him for a crime he did not commit, or it could start snowing right now, even if that wouldn’t make a whole lot of sense. It could always be worse.

He tries to swallow the guilt that churns uncomfortably in his stomach as he thinks about losing the wallet Natsu had given him. It had been one of his prized possessions—a little bit of home that he’d taken with him, and kept close, especially since it was from his little sister. At least there was just cash in it (and not a lot of it), and he’d kept his ID in his phone case pocket. He still feels absolutely crushed, though, to have had it stolen or lost, and Shouyou isn’t all that sure he can take any more terrible things today.

Before that, he’d been incredibly late for a delivery because he’d gotten hopelessly lost, and none of the street signs had offered him any answers. He couldn’t understand what they meant, or what the directions said to go exactly, and the food had gotten cold, which made him feel really bad. Then in the morning, when he’d played beach volleyball, he’d gotten frustrated with himself again when he and his partner had lost the match, feeling the sting on his palm like a nostalgic memory of past indoor games, wishing he could ride that high again one more time. He knows he’s improving, little by little, but Shouyou can’t help but wish that he’ll get faster, even if he constantly reminds himself to not be impatient. He wants to _get_ _there_ already, but he can’t do that without working for it. He knows that. It’s just an itch he needs to learn how to keep at bay, that’s all.

It’ll be fine. He’s almost home, anyway.

With a deep exhale, Shouyou unlocks the door to the apartment, peeking his head in to see if Pedro is around. The boy in question is sitting in the kitchen, a book laid out before him, wearing earphones. Shuffling inside, Shouyou places the take-out he’d bought on his way here on the table, unwrapping the plastic and setting the containers down on the table.

He looks over at his roommate, and wears a small smile. “Pedro, dinner,” he says as clearly as he can, just stopping a little short in front of him. He dares himself to be a little hopeful. “Want to eat together?”

Pedro doesn’t look up, or give any indication that he’s heard anything. Shouyou tries not to let himself crumble, and resigns himself to just try again another day. Pedro seems busy, anyway. Maybe he’s already eaten dinner. He doesn’t look very hungry.

Shouyou eats the food in silence, shoveling it into his mouth to appease the hunger that’s taken control of his stomach. He finishes it in no time. Biting the inside of his cheek, Shouyou takes a deep breath, and heads over to his room. Some of his belongings are already messily scattered all over the places, unfolded laundry in a pile by the door, some of the manga he’d brought strewn over the bed sheets. Shouyou knows that he should probably clean them up before he showers. He’s gonna have to get up early again tomorrow, and the more rest he gets, the better he’ll feel, but…

But the sinking feeling in his chest is back, an ache right in the middle of his heart, and Shouyou feels so tired. He’s exhausted, and today had been an awful lot of bad things one after the other, and he doesn’t feel satisfied with his progress at all. He tries to convince himself that it just wasn’t a great day, and that tomorrow will definitely be better. It’s just like that here, with ups and downs that he can’t really control. That doesn’t mean he can’t make the most of it. It’ll get better eventually.

Still, he thinks, some days are a lot easier than others.

On some days, he’ll feel thrilled the moment he wakes up, remembering where he is, where the sun takes him by the hand and leads him out into the world, and where the beach is waiting for him to take control of it. Everything will be fine, and if his form is particularly good, he’ll even win a match or two and make a new friend, promising for more team-ups and partnerships. He’ll try out new food, sweet and sour on his tongue, and practice his words in front of a mirror, his guidebook clutched in his hands as he tries to smoothen his syllables into something more understandable. Those are the better days, and Shouyou will realize that this is exactly where he wants to be. Here, where it is exciting and fun and interesting and cool. It’s bright, and it’s free, and sometimes it’s a little disastrous, and on other days, it’s also—

Lonely. It’s lonely, sometimes.

Shouyou is so _lonely._ And it’s on days like these that he feels it the most.

See, the thing is, he’s always been sociable. Maybe that’s where the problem lies, because Shouyou likes talking to people and making new friends and letting the world know his name. But here, it’s a lot more difficult than he thought it would be. Perhaps it’s mostly to do with the language barrier, and even if Shouyou’s trying to overcome it by practicing, he can’t help but miss when it was simpler. When all his friends were all so easily within reach that all he had to do was step into the hallway to find them, or barely move his fingers across a keypad to message them, connecting their lines together without much of an effort.

But here, there is time and distance. There is Shouyou’s jet-lagged heart still trying to compete with the time zones, trying to count down the hours and match them with Japan, and there’s schedules filled with busy meetings and lectures and studies. And even though he’d promised that he wouldn’t let anything change, wouldn’t let _this_ change anything, he can’t help but think of all the things that they lose within this distance. He thinks of the silence that hangs over phone calls, the pixelated expressions through videos, the crackle of static that can’t ever compete with the complexity of body language, and all the things that people hide within their actions when they’re too afraid of the breaths that make up their words. He thinks of how Kageyama’s never been that good at messaging to begin with, but how they’re both still trying to keep up anyway, but there’s less and less of it and more and more of silence, now that the Olympics is fast approaching. He thinks of how Yachi is busier than ever, but the happiness she wears on her face is one that Shouyou’s always known best suited her. Yamaguchi calls Shouyou whenever he can, but even he is swept away by the day-and-night shifts that come with continental drifts, and Tsukishima likes to keep in touch by sending helpful Portuguese tutorials, but those come far and few in between with all the workload that’s been piling up. So there isn’t much anymore, and while Shouyou is immensely grateful for all the effort they put in, he still wants more. He misses the way it used to be, when everything was easier. It makes him ache, sometimes, the thought of it.

He brings out his phone, the blue case Kageyama had given him soft underneath his fingers, and the cartoon giraffe stares back at him. He switches it on, and stares at his wallpaper. It’s the five of them, from the day before their last go at Nationals. Shouyou looks at it, and feels a sharp pang of longing. He looks at the way Yachi’s eyes are squeezed tight, Tsukishima’s lips are just barely frowning, Yamaguchi’s got the biggest smile Shouyou’s ever seen, and he can tell that Kageyama’s pleased, even if he doesn’t really show it that well in the photo. Shouyou looks at himself, at how _happy_ he looks, and he _misses_ it. He misses those days more than anything, and it’s not enough to just look at the picture to remind himself of what he’s got waiting back home. He wants to be back there, with his friends and laughing and joking and teasing again, just the way it always should be. He wants to make fun of the way Yamaguchi’s hair stands up and curiously helps express the way he’s feeling, or sing trashy pop songs at an obnoxiously loud volume with Yachi. He wants to make fun of Tsukishima’s false indifference, and he wants to call Kageyama names and try to make him laugh. He wants that all back so badly that it physically hurts him to think about it, and his throat closes up, as the tears prickle in his eyes.

Shouyou’s not used to missing people.

He slides down the wall and curls up in the corner of his room, dropping his phone on the bed and hugging his knees to his chest tightly. His breath comes in sharp and quick, painful against his lungs, and the overwhelming ache steals the air right out of his lungs. It’s normal to feel homesick sometimes, he knows that, it’s not the first time he’s felt this way, but it doesn’t make it hurt any less. He wants to be here, in Brazil, but he doesn’t want to feel this way. He wants the opportunity but also the comfort of home, and he knows that it’s a proper sacrifice he had to make, and exchanges always need to be equivalent, but it doesn’t feel good at all. It hurts. It hurts so much.

He tries to ground himself in remembering just what he’d come here for. He’s here to fulfill a promise. He’s here to finally prove that he can stand on his own, and that he’s a strong player without having to depend on anyone else. He’s here to finally show the world what he’s capable of. He’s here to beat Kageyama, and to finally make the setter _see_ him.

For a moment, Shouyou thinks about Kageyama, and he hurts a little more inside. Because while he does miss everyone else back home, it’s probably Kageyama Tobio that he misses most. It’s not unusual—even without all the rose-colored feelings he has, Kageyama is still his best friend, and Shouyou had been used to having him around all the time. He’s the person Shouyou always wants to be talking to, even if nothing interesting is happening, or even if he doesn’t have all that much to say. He’s so used to pestering him and rambling about whatever thought pops into his head, that sometimes Shouyou will see something cool and turn to his right to comment about it, only to find nothing but air. He feels himself crumple whenever that happens, and all he’s left is the hollowness inside of him.

So maybe Shouyou misses Kageyama, and how he looks under the streetlights, glowing so bright, sharp but gentle like the winter, a sprinkle of stray snowflakes on his eyelashes. He misses Kageyama’s pretty moon smile, like a perfect curved hairpin, and how it means so much to see it, because of how rare it is. He misses Kageyama tossing to him, and knowing that neither of them have any qualms about staying late, and how they always knew to wait for each other. He misses seeing him around and bickering and competing, and reveling in just how _nice_ Kageyama can be sometimes, like when he buys Shouyou pork buns or always makes sure to bring an extra pen because he knows Shouyou loses his often, even when he knows that he really shouldn’t be surprised anymore. He misses the thrill of having Kageyama look at him, just for a second, and remembering just how Kageyama had been the first person to believe in him. He misses how Kageyama had known, from the very start, that Shouyou would be able to get this far, and still believes that he can go further. He misses that, the simplicity and the smoothness, just how easy it was to reach out and touch or talk. He misses Kageyama Tobio.

But things are different now, and he needs to learn how to live with that. And all Shouyou needs is a little bit of time. He has to be patient.

People have always said that laughter is the best medicine, so Shouyou tries to force out a laugh. _Voice it from the diaphragm,_ he tells himself, shaping the words out loud as if to summon them better. It’s not like it’s going to be this way forever. He’ll come home soon; he won’t be away for too long. He just needs to make the most of what he has now, even if it’s painful and frustrating, because one day he’ll get it all back, and receive even more. He laughs until it feels real enough for him to hold, chasing after the breaths he’d spent lonely, and turning them into something more useful. He laughs until he feels a little better, somewhat lighter, and picks himself up from the ground.

He’ll be okay. He’ll get past this. He just needs to work hard, and not waste any time.

Glancing at the clock, Shouyou sees that it’s still early to head out. Pedro is already gone when he exits his bedroom, probably inside his own room, and Shouyou is careful to take his keys with him when he steps out, shutting the door quietly. He hops back on his bike, feeling the need slowly build up within as he pedals. It doesn’t take him too long, and the scent of the sea is strong enough to hit him before he even reaches his destination.

Before him, the beach lays shifty and moving, with people milling around. There are already a couple of nets set up by the other end, where shouts and yelps can be heard from those already playing. The sand splays around as they move, crafting by them and sticking to their skin like an extra layer, and Shouyou’s moving before he even gives himself time to think.

There are people of all ages here, he realizes when he comes closer. There’s a pair of elderly men playing together, and a handful of teenagers laughing at each other on another court. Some middle-aged women, a few more boys of his age, and a couple of girls. It’s a little startling, to be honest, like it’s proof of everything that volleyball stands for—that to connect means something greater than just keeping the ball up in the air, and that it stands for the things you learn from others. It’s a lot like what Shouyou’s learned from the last three years. To not let the ball drop, no matter who is there to receive it.

When one of the old men’s upperhand receives don’t go too smoothly, Shouyou moves on instinct—tossing the back upwards into the air with one swift movement, watching as it descends back on the other side of the court, landing on the sand with a muffled thud.

One of the men turns to him then, awestruck with wide eyes. “Hey!” he says, and Shouyou startles with the attention. “You’re good! Switch with me, I’m gonna get another beer!”

Shouyou blinks as he shoves a ball into his hand. He doesn’t really know what the man had said, but if there’s anything he does understand universally, it’s volleyball, and the ball pressed against his palms seems to suggest that he’s supposed to join. Well, Shouyou’s never been one to complain about being able to play.

“ _Yossha!”_ he exclaims to himself, the sand crunching under his feet as he heads over to the net. He can do this.

Shouyou plays a few games with different partners, always switching up the teams and bouncing around to anyone who’s looking for someone for a second set of hands. It’s a slow start, and he feels as though he’s always one step behind, but he knows that he just needs to find the proper rhythm, step into the stand with intention. He wins a bunch of the matches, high-fiving his partner with cheery grins, and everyone seems to be just the slightest bit impressed with him.

It’s a good feeling. Volleyball’s always managed to help him feel better.

He’s partnered up with an elderly man with a firecracker energy in his eyes, and the game is going well enough. Shouyou goes where he’s meant to be, diving to get the ball back up in the air. The sand clings to his skin—under his arms and on his shirt, and he’s sure that he’s got some in his hair now that he’ll have to wash off later. It’s gritty and gentle all at once, and Shouyou can easily tell why people have become so enamored with the beach enough to switch to playing on it permanently.

The other side’s receive comes out long, on a trajectory course to their end, and Shouyou’s partner chases after it, an arm stuck out in hopes of being able to bump into the air. He dives right after it, stumbling into the sand and causing it to go flying everywhere, and Shouyou runs after him immediately, checking if he’s alright.

“Out! It’s out!” the man yells, laughing, and Shouyou blinks back in surprise. He doesn’t seem injured, or in pain, even if that was quite the dive he took. If this had been indoor volleyball, he probably would’ve gotten hurt, but here…

Shouyou looks down at the sand beneath his feet. He wiggles his toes, and it comes up following the direction he takes, soft and flexible. It’s then that he realizes—the sand is strict, but kind. It feels as though he’s cracked the code for something, and it only furthers his reasoning that this’ll be able to help him grow. The sand will keep him light on his toes, but it’ll shape him into something sturdier. It’ll turn him into a player close to spectacular.

The game continues on after that, with Shouyou working hard, his eyes following the ball, not letting up. He stumbles and he falls but he always gets right back up, and every spike feels good against his palm. He’s becoming better at his jump, since it’s still a little unstable, but he’s getting the hang of it. He just needs to be patient.

“ _Nice kill!”_ Shouyou exclaims, throwing his arms out in the air when they win the match. His companions grin back at him, only looking slightly confused at his words. It’s a habit, Shouyou knows, and they won’t understand him, but the words bring a sense of comfort and triumph anyway, and he beams right back at them.

“Huh? _Seriously?_ ” a voice says from behind him, and it takes Shouyou a moment before the words click properly in his mind—wait, Japanese? Who else is speaking Japanese?

Shouyou turns around, and his eyes widen at who he finds. He can’t believe this. How is this happening? He didn’t ever think this would be possible—

“Is this real life?” Oikawa Tooru says, looking just as bewildered as Shouyou feels, like he can’t imagine that this is happening either, because _holy shit._

A shudder ripples through him, a thousand memories coalescing into one single moment before him, and Shouyou isn’t able to stop himself before he exclaims, “ _The Grand King?”_

And just like that, another challenger approaches.

Oikawa Tooru, Shouyou learns, is playing in the Argentinian league.

He offers to take Shouyou out for dinner after turning down his request to play a game together—but Shouyou’s still determined to get him on the beach for a match—and he laughs, a light, airy sound, when Shouyou embarrassingly tells him that he’s lost his wallet. They head over to one of the seaside restaurants, the smell of salt thick in the air as the fluorescent lights illuminate the place, seating at a table for two by the corner.

Together, they clap their hands to give thanks for their meal. The food they eat is familiar, sweet and salty against his tongue, his fingers clasping the chopsticks with practiced ease. They comment on how good the food is, and Shouyou agrees, nodding whole-heartedly. Oikawa makes a couple of jokes, as charismatic as ever, a twinkle in his eye as he tells Shouyou stories of his experiences in Brazil so far—he’s gotten lost a few times too, which makes Shouyou feel infinitely better—and in the way he holds himself, Shouyou sees a flash of the boy king he’d seen years ago, but there’s something new above the surface, one that he can’t really figure out what to call just yet.

He has a feeling he’ll be able to figure it out eventually.

“Oh, right!” Shouyou says, leaning a bit forward. “Oikawa-san, have you seen any of Kageyama’s matches lately?”

Almost instantly, Oikawa leans back, his face scrunched up in distaste. “Nope,” he says, glancing away, and the look is so familiar that Shouyou sees right through the lie. Kageyama’s the exact same way, it’s a little funny.

“So why did you go to Argentina?” Shouyou asks him, his curiosity finally peaking through. He hadn’t heard anything about this, so he’s assuming that Kageyama didn’t know about it either. Oh, he’ll be so surprised when Shouyou tells him about this. It’ll be _hilarious._

Oikawa’s eyes sparkle as he recounts an old story, the nostalgia seeping through his words. He rests his chin on the palm of his hand as he tells Shouyou about a setter he’d seen once as a kid, and how much he looked up to him. Jose Blanco, Oikawa says, was the real star of the game that day. It’s why he’s come all this way—to prove his worth as a setter, trusting with his whole being and having faith in his team—trying to prove to everyone else that he’d get right there to the top. He wanted to learn from the man who sparked the fire in him even brighter, and if coming to Argentina had meant that, he was willing to do it.

“His autograph accidentally got washed away eventually,” Oikawa says, a little bit of humor laced in his voice. “I owed Iwa-chan ice cream because of that, you know. And he never even paid me back for buying the paper! Of course he didn’t.”

Oikawa huffs, his eyebrows pinched in annoyance. But Shouyou just grins cheekily right back at him, because he hears the fondness seeping right through his voice at the mention of his _Iwa-chan_ , even if Oikawa tries to cover it up with irritation. His story had been tinged with a hint of softness whenever Seijoh’s former ace was mentioned. Shouyou had been by Kageyama’s side for years—he knows how to find the gentle meaning behind annoyance, practiced with seeing under the inflections and finding the heart. With amusement, he thinks to himself that the two setters are a whole lot more alike than they’ll ever care to admit.

(Shouyou also knows what longing looks like. It didn’t take him long to figure it out, not when he’s seen that same look reflected back in his own eyes in the mirror.)

“Either way,” Oikawa says, and a determined look crosses his face, that same, familiar one from years ago that had Shouyou seen in glimpses from the other side of a court. “The stage I want to stand on hasn’t changed.”

Shouyou swallows, and it’s almost as the ground rumbles beneath his feet with the weight of the declaration, strong and mighty just like the crown he wears on his head. This is the boy Shouyou remembers from high school, the one who wore pride for everyone to see, who carried bold words and masterful strikes, quick-witted and sharp-tongued. Shouyou’s always known why Kageyama looked up to him back then, but this feels like something new entirely.

Oikawa leans back, crossing his arms, and the tension dissapitates. “By the way, I thought I was doing something pretty out there,” he says, mirth dancing in his eyes and tone, “but beach volleyball on the other side of the globe is—”

Shouyou’s quick to jump on his feet. “Come on! Let’s go play!” he says excitedly. “Everyone plays until pretty late around here!”

Oikawa only looks even more amused, raising an eyebrow. “Oh?” he says, smirking. “You’ve gotten pretty high and mighty, wanting to fight it out with me, haven’t you?”

Shouyou just grins, and pulls Oikawa along, and they head back over to the beach. The streetlights line the sidewalk to illuminate the beach where a lot of people are still mulling around, the nets set up with people on either sides, the sound of laughter and shouts filling the air.

He picks up a ball before tossing it over to Oikawa, who receives it almost flawlessly. He bumps it back over to Shouyou, and it wobbles a little in the air as a breeze blows past, but he manages to hit it back with ease. They go back and forth, with simple receives as they wait for one of the nets to become free, and Shouyou can taste the sea salt on his tongue as his knees dig into the sand for a receive. He sends it back into the air with as much force as he can muster, and Oikawa moves to get it.

A heavy gust of wind blows just then, changing the ball’s direction for its descent, and the setter scrambles towards it, tripping on his feet and falling face forward, right into the sound with a poof. Shouyou tries not to laugh, covering his mouth with a hand as Oikawa pushes himself up with his arms.

He looks absolutely _pissed_ , and Shouyou cackles, unable to help himself. “Volleyball’s in the name, but this is a totally different sport!” Oikawa exclaims, his words coming out in short breaths. “I’m just a beginner here!”

And Shouyou laughs, his first genuine laugh in a long, long time, loud and full. He helps Oikawa back up, dusting off the sand from his shorts. That’s exactly how he’d been when he first started out, and while he still isn’t that much better right now, he’s slowly getting the hang of it. He grins, feeling so incredibly light in his chest. He looks at the displeased expression on Oikawa’s face, and feels something electric shoot up his spine as he takes in the situation they’ve both found themselves in. Isn’t it just so strange how this all happened? It’s like a trick of the light that aligned both of them to be here at the same time.

Who would’ve thought he’d find Oikawa here, of all people? It almost feels surreal and unrealistic—and Shouyou is so _relieved_ to see a familiar face. It’s so comforting to see someone who’d known him from before, even if all their interactions had been made of rivalry and glares from across the court—but Shouyou welcomes it all the same. He’s thankful, so incredibly grateful, and the relief surrounds him like a blanket of comfort, and he latches right on to it. Maybe it’s a bit desperate, but Shouyou is so afraid and tired of being lonely, and really, all he needs is a little bit of home, just for a while. How lucky is he, that this happened right when he needed it the most?

Maybe, Shouyou thinks, maybe Oikawa needs it too.

“Today…” Shouyou starts to say, his fists clenching, as the words begin to shape themselves into his mouth, and Oikawa turns his attention back to him. “For one second, just for one second,” he continues, and he says it as a reminder that as painful it is, it isn’t something that will last forever. “I was…really depressed.”

He feels the sinking feeling again for a moment as he remembers, but he pushes it back as he looks back at Oikawa, and beams at him, and his chest is illuminated with the stars above their heads. “But after meeting you,” he says, and Shouyou _means_ it. These words, they’re nothing but sincere. “I’m feeling way, way better now!”

Oikawa places his hands on his hips, and smiles, sharp but genuine around the edges. “Then treat me to dinner next time,” he says, and Shouyou’s nods resolutely.

They get asked by two guys for a match not long after that, and neither of them have ever been the type of back down from any kind of challenge. It’s messy and awkward and the wind isn’t quite on their side, but it’s exciting and thrilling, and Shouyou doesn’t think he’s had this much fun in beach volleyball before this very moment. Shouyou’s amazed just by how quickly Oikawa adjusts—he gets the hang of it not too long, sending Shouyou a toss that’s nearly perfect. The wind blows it away at the last second, and Shouyou misses—dropping back on the sand just as the ball does.

There’s a calculating look in Oikawa’s eyes, and Shouyou can already tell that something is brimming underneath the surface. Shouyou couldn’t get a knack for setting at all when he first began, but he supposes that this is why Oikawa’s the Grand King, after all. He’s already figuring out just what to do.

They lose the match, and both he and Oikawa are forced to buy their opponents drinks, smirking with triumph as they trudge over to do it. Shouyou declares a rematch and they agree, eyes narrowing in determination. Oikawa tells Shouyou that he’ll be staying here for a whole week, and Shouyou feels himself light up at the opportunity.

“Let’s play here again!” he tells Oikawa, excitement running through his veins. “I wanna hit some of your awesome tosses!”

Oikawa blinks at him, a pleased flush on his cheeks, looking surprised. He turns away, staring at the ground and muttering, “Well, if I have some time? And if I’m in the mood for it, I _guess_ I could play with you.”

Shouyou beams. “Thanks!”

Oikawa hums, and he squints down at Shouyou, a little contemplative. “But I’ve been meaning to ask,” he says as they start strolling along the edge, the sand crunching softly underneath their feet. “Won’t it be a bit rough going back indoors after adjusting to the beach’s quirks? The overhand rules and the sand… Are you not gonna get scared of the hard floor?”

Shouyou presses his lips into a thin line. “Yeah, it’s a bit worrying,” he admits, looking at the ground for a moment, before glancing up at Oikawa again. “But that’s also why I’ve been practicing indoors with a junior team too!”

“Tch,” Oikawa says, just the barest smile on his lips. “Not taking anything for granted, huh?” He bends over to tie up his shoelaces, curling the strings around his fingers with precision. “You already leveled up a fair amount, and yet you’re setting that all aside and starting from level one. Isn’t that hard?”

He pauses, thinking. “Yeah,” he says after a moment. Of course it’s hard—none of this has been easy so far, but Shouyou knows what he’s for. And what’s the fun when you’re already done growing? Isn’t it better to always have something to strive for? To feel the thrill of getting there, and knowing that it’ll be worth it in the end?

“But I really, really like leveling up,” Shouyou answers simply. “That feeling of becoming able to do something, it’s fun, no matter how many times I do it.”

Oikawa looks at him, disbelief splayed on his face for a beat. “Are you sure you’re not just telling yourself that?”

Shouyou frowns. “Of course not.”

“Hm.” Oikawa stands back up, resting his hands on his hips. “Fine, whatever. I’ll be here again tomorrow, maybe in the early afternoon. That alright with you, chibi-chan?”

Shouyou’s so happy that he doesn’t even bother trying to object to the nickname. “Yeah!” he says, grinning.

He hops back on his bike shortly after that, figuring that it’s about time to get some rest now. It’s been an incredibly long day, but Shouyou’s feeling much lighter than when he’d left, and he feels absolutely elated. Even if it’s just for a week, he’s not going to be alone. And he’ll even be able to hit Oikawa’s tosses! The _Grand King’s_ tosses! Kageyama will be so jealous. He’ll definitely have to ask for a picture with Oikawa tomorrow.

The lights are still on when he enters the apartment, and he shuts the door softly behind him. Pedro’s sitting in the kitchen again, with his earphones still plugged into his ears as he reads from a manga.

Shouyou isn’t expecting anything, still feeling a little disheartened over earlier, which is why it comes as such a surprise when Pedro mumbles, barely audible, “Welcome back.”

He’s so shocked that he freezes right on the spot, before he remembers that he has to seize the chance while he can. Shouyou doesn’t hesitate a moment before he runs into his room, scrambling around his things. Once he’s found what he’s looking for, he heads back into the kitchen and sits in the chair in front of Pedro, staring at him intensely.

He holds up the _One Piece_ volume in his hands. “Who do you like?” he asks. He’d seen Pedro reading the manga a couple of days ago, but was never sure if it was proper for him to ask just yet, but here, right now, it seems like a better time than any other. “I like Zoro!”

Pedro looks at him in surprise. Then he bites his lip, thoroughly considering the question. He stammers with his answer, saying that he can’t just _pick one,_ and it reminds Shouyou so much of Kenma that it gives him an idea of how to move forward with this. He can do this. Shouyou shows Pedro his teaching aids, who responds that he’s got some animes in Portuguese. He asks Shouyou if he wants to watch them, and Shouyou nearly trips over his words in his haste to agree.

And that night, after watching two episodes of _My Hero Academia_ with Pedro, and learning a few more words in Portuguese, Shouyou tucks himself into bed, feeling exceedingly accomplished. He lies down and stares at the ceiling, and it’s like his bones sink right into the mattress with exhaustion. But that’s okay, because he’ll get up again tomorrow, and it’ll be better than today. He’ll make sure that it’s better.

Tomorrow, he’ll play with Oikawa and spike some of his tosses. Maybe he can even get Oikawa to teach him some of his setting techniques, wouldn’t that be cool? Then maybe he and Pedro can talk about the other mangas that they read, or maybe Pedro likes that ghost-hunting channel on YouTube too. That would give them something to talk about, and each small step is still progress. He’ll get through this, and he’ll be just fine. He just needs to take it day by day.

Shouyou turns on his phone to look at the time, catching a glimpse of his wallpaper once more. Taking a deep breath, he shuts it off, and leans back onto the pillow, closing his eyes. He’ll be okay. He’ll learn, and he’ll live.

And then he’ll come home.

> From: Hinata
> 
> _LOOK WHO I MET IN RIO!!!!_
> 
> From: Hinata
> 
> _[[image sent]](https://static.wikia.nocookie.net/haikyuu/images/0/08/Chapter372.jpg/revision/latest?cb=20191111163427)_

Tobio stares at the picture. The picture stares right back at him.

He can’t believe it. He can’t believe this is real. What the hell is going on?

Tobio feels his stomach somersault uncomfortably, unsure of what to make of all of this exactly. Narrowing his eyes at it, he wonders how his life has come to this, clutching his phone tightly in his hands as he sits in the locker room, incredibly bewildered.

In the photo, Hinata stands backlit against the brilliant sun, the sand a great yellow expanse behind him, cut off only by the shoreline with a volleyball net cut into the corner. He looks the same as Tobio remembers—sunset eyes and wide smile, freckles spattering across tanned skin, his tongue sticking out of his mouth as he looks at something out of the frame. Just a gremlin as he’s always been, Tobio thinks to himself with amusement, and it tugs at his heartstrings, just how _Hinata_ it is, to have done this, and to look like that. And Hinata…Hinata looks good. He looks happy, and Tobio knows he can’t make proper judgements based on one photo alone, but it makes him glad to see that Hinata seems like he’s doing well. He’d been a little worried, but this is reassuring enough.

And now the other thing—the reason for his complete bafflement.

Because standing there, next to Hinata in an equally ridiculous pose, is no other than Oikawa Tooru himself.

Oikawa’s got his eyes directly on the camera, and it’s been years since Tobio last saw him in person, but he’s pretty sure that he’d still be able to recognize Oikawa anywhere. He looks a lot older now, obviously, but there’s still that same smug and childish look in his eyes, looking just as wild as Hinata does. He can’t believe this is happening at all. Why is Oikawa in Brazil? Why is he with _Hinata?_

Tobio spots Ushijima passing by and grabs his arm as he walks past, and turns his screen around to show him the photo. The spiker’s eyes widen by just a fraction, slowly taking in the contents of the image, before he stands up properly again. Tobio doesn’t know what to say, and it seems that neither does Ushijima, as they both just stare at each other in silence, taking in the information that two of their rivals have spontaneously met up on the other side of the world. Tobio’s mind is racing, and he only snaps out of it when their coach calls them back for the start of practice. He quickly shoots Hinata a text, realizing that the best way to get answers is to actually _ask questions._

> To: Hinata
> 
> _WHAT_
> 
> From: Hinata
> 
> _hehehe_

Well, so much for that.

He’s pretty sure he’d know if Hinata was in contact with Oikawa beforehand, or if this had been a planned meeting. Hinata wouldn’t be able to keep something like that, not from him, and Tobio knows Hinata well enough to know that he would probably boast all about it. And besides, based on Hinata’s text, it doesn’t seem like he’d known it was going to happen either. So maybe they’d seen each other by accident, and now they’re…playing together? Tobio tries to imagine Oikawa setting to Hinata, but quickly stops. He’d never thought it could actually happen, but it’s a possibility now, he supposes.

This is just another fact he has to learn to live with, Tobio tells himself. That his best friend is on the other side of the world with _Oikawa Tooru,_ and that they’re actually getting along. Who would’ve thought?

Just as he gets up, walking into the gym to ready himself for a couple of practice serves, he lets the weight of what it means finally settle in properly. It’s such a peculiar thing that he’s trying to wrap his head around, the idea that they’re together there, but Tobio’s figures that there are stranger things that could happen, right? This isn’t the weirdest thing that’s ever happened to him. It’s not like he can do anything about it, anyway, even if he wanted to.

Tobio can’t do anything because he’s here in Tokyo, adjusting to his professional career and preparing for the Olympics, while Hinata is in Brazil, learning how to beach volleyball, with _Oikawa—_

And _oh,_ right as he runs up to hit the ball, the realization hits him like a ton of brick, because now it clicks, and he figures out what this uncomfortable feeling is, bitter on his tongue and heavy in his stomach. Tobio knows what it is.

Because it’s unfair, isn’t it? It’s unfair, terribly unfair, Tobio thinks, that Oikawa gets to be there and see Hinata smile, sunny grin and all, when Tobio can’t. He gets to have Hinata around to toss to, to have Hinata’s summer eyes directed right at him, to be able to listen to Hinata go on about whatever he’s thinking about. Oikawa gets to watch and listen when he laughs, tipping his head back like a little kid, eyes squeezed shut and hands wrapped around his stomach, because Hinata Shouyou has always been the kind of boy that’s never been good at controlling the laughter that lives within him, and Tobio’s learned to love it like an old favorite song. Oikawa gets to experience Hinata next to him while Tobio is almost eleven thousand miles away, keeping a heart filled with a love that won’t settle down, even after all that’s happened.

He hits the ball with too much force necessary and bounces on the floor all the way to the ceiling, before landing back down with a loud thud that resounds through the entire gym. Tobio flushes in embarrassment at the way his teammates stare at him in shock, before scrambling after the ball.

Tobio’s thought about stopping before. He’s considered it so many times before, just forcing himself to forget and move on—but how can he? How can he ever forget Hinata Shouyou, when he’s the one Tobio’s been waiting for his whole life? Even when Tobio still feels like he’s drowning, Hinata’s always been there—a life jacket, a lighthouse, an anchor, the stars in the sky. A way home back to shore.

Tobio’s missed Hinata before he even met him, so he tries to reason that if he’s done it once, he can do it for a little longer. But _fuck_ , if it doesn’t make his chest ache like a phantom stab wound, the cold seeping in through his skin as he tries to grab ahold of the warmth of his campfire smile, of the heat in his hands when he wraps his fingers around Tobio’s wrist to pull him along, grinning and laughing and skipping steps that it has Tobio stumbling on his own two feet trying to keep up with a heart that’s never learned to wear a helmet. Tobio’s never been one for the winter, anyway, as Hinata used to like to say, and he doesn’t think it could be any truer than at this very moment.

This always happens when he digs up old memories—the sunlit backdrop that Hinata always seems to carry with him in Tobio’s mind, shining so brightly and spinning around that he’s the only one Tobio finds him looking at all the time. Like Hinata never has to do anything, or _try_ to get Tobio to glance his way, because there really isn’t anyone he’d rather look at. It’s almost as though Hinata is a natural at it, stealing all of Tobio’s attention away and turning him into a believer of something solar, something that he never wants to let go of. And isn’t that just a pretty thing? That a part of him will always be waiting for the sun to come back home, to peek out of the horizon, and he’ll be there watching as the dawn finally breaks, bursting into something extraordinary and phenomenal.

Tobio takes a deep breath, and spins the ball in his hands. Always the same amount of times as it’s always been—six strikes of lightning for the storm he’s gathering in his very palms. For a moment, Tobio thinks he hears the echo of an exuberant voice in the back of his mind, _go killer serve!_ like a familiar reassurance of pride and trust, and he lets it fill him with equal parts comfort and longing—one for the fact that it had been there with him at one point, that he’d heard it enough to bring him a little pocket of warmth, and the other for the notion that he no longer has it. It’s a voice he hasn’t heard in months now, but his memories hold them crystal clear, and it’s nothing that static could ever replicate.

Tossing up the ball, he’s jumping up to meet it a split-second later, crackling with electricity as it hits the ground with precision and accuracy, leaving Tobio with a satisfied smile as his palm stings with the impact. Volleyball has always been his way to cope with things—it’s what he does when he misses someone, always has been, and it seems to be a little ironic, Tobio thinks, how volleyball is the reason Hinata had stumbled into his life, and why he’s all the way on the other side of the world. Isn’t that funny?

For a moment, he wonders if Hinata misses him too.

Aside from the photo from earlier, it’s been a while since they’ve properly talked, since they’re both still trying to find a way to make their schedules fit together, or to find a spot when they’re both available long enough to video call. Hinata messaged before, when he first got to Rio, that he’d missed them, but the message had been to the group chat with Tsukishima, Yamaguchi, and Yachi too. Does he miss Tobio specifically? Hinata’s always been so friendly that Tobio doesn’t doubt that he’s already made new friends in Brazil—that includes _Oikawa_ now, apparently—but what does he think? Tobio’s pretty sure that Hinata _does_ miss him to a certain extent, but does he miss Tobio the way Tobio misses him? Does it feel like all the breaths have been stolen from him, an ache in his lungs, thorns in his throat that only grow as the days pass? Does it feel like that for him too?

Does Hinata understand that this is the way it feels for him? Does he feel the way Tobio does right now?

If it was that easy to stop, Tobio thinks he would’ve by now.

And isn’t that just unfair? That Tobio misses Hinata even when he was never even his to lose. It shouldn’t hurt this bad, not when he never took anything more than he was given, but it _does_ anyway, and there’s nothing he can do about it.

Tobio rolls the ball in his hands, thinking hard to himself. It was supposed to be over, wasn’t it? Didn’t he already accept that nothing was ever going to happen between the two of them? He’s gotten so good at yearning now, it’s almost like second nature to simply love from afar, and he’s so used to keeping his distance that to even think about bridging the gap has his heart spinning in a whirlwind. But sometimes, when the world is quiet and made of soft edges, Tobio lets himself wonder. He wonders what it would be like to have more, to be able to see Hinata and say, _I’ve always been yours,_ and for Hinata to look back at him with those sun-catching eyes, smiling as he holds Tobio close. He imagines what it would be like to be able to sit close to him again, to take his hand and hold it, to kiss his wrists with the closest thing to reverence he’s ever mustered, to trace the freckles on his cheeks like a constellation map going home. He lets himself think about how Hinata had proven that maybe Kageyama Tobio was made for love, after all, because it’s chest-searing, the way he feels, and maybe he was wrong about being born with sadness inside. And this last thing, so overwhelming and scary that he’s not really sure how it would go, since Tobio’s never been good with words to begin with, but with Hinata words have never slipped by easier—how he’d say _I like you_ first to be gentle, because even if he knows that there’s a stronger word for it, even if it’s truly what he feels, Tobio is afraid. He’s afraid, so afraid and terrified, of what Hinata will think of it once he knows just how Tobio keeps his name like a prayer, and he doesn’t know what to do with something like that in his heart, if he’ll be able to hold it in his hands without breaking it.

And perhaps the worst part of all of this, Tobio knows, is that he’s not even trying to stop. He doesn’t _want_ to.

So the only thing he can do is keep going. He’ll practice and he’ll play at the Olympics, and he’ll let himself be known. He’ll let the world see him, and just hope that a summer-eyed boy is watching him right back, and that he remembers what he had meant to a lonely boy from Miyagi. He’ll remember that boy who still gets lost in train stations trying to find it to the right training gym, who’s trying to keep up with the rest of his teammates at a professional level despite only being nineteen, who has a fondness for pork curry with egg and milk. He’ll remember that Tobio will forever be chasing suns with his name on his lips. And maybe, when Hinata looks up at the clouds, he’ll think of Tobio too, and the things Tobio feels for him will stretch out over that distance, as grand as they are, and he’ll feel just the way Tobio thinks of him with his whole being. Maybe it’ll be like that, choosing to keep going even when he’s not sure about the path that’s laid out before them. Isn’t that the thing about love, Tobio supposes, the way he doesn’t care what happens, just as long as he gets to keep it.

If the story’s over, then why are they still writing pages?

“Where is it, where is it, where is it—” Shouyou mutters to himself, digging through his closet, rummaging past the clothes and hangers, keeping his eyes open. He’s gotten a lot better at keeping his things neat and orderly, but there are times when he’s just too exhausted to bother, and he slips up and forgets where he puts his things.

Once he’s gone through the closet with no success, Shouyou checks over his bed again, looking under the covers just to be sure. It doesn’t seem to be hanging from the rack either, since it’s just his Karasuno jacket that he leaves there when he wears it from time to time, and a couple of shirts. Biting the inside of his cheek, Shouyou surveys the room one more time, squinting. He tries to wrack his memory for any time he would have worn that shirt before ever since he came to Brazil, but he comes up short. Maybe it’s still in his suitcase…? He’s still got a couple of things in there that he’d placed for safe-keeping and when he wasn’t sure where to put them.

Shouyou rushes over to where his bag lies, unzipping it and flipping it over. He reaches out to look inside and—aha! Grinning, he pulls out the shirt he’d been looking for—bright yellow with a pineapple on it—and tugs off the shirt he’s wearing to change into it. He’s supposed to be meeting with Oikawa later for their last few games together before he leaves tomorrow, and Shouyou had used up all the shirts he usually uses for volleyball. He really should do the laundry soon, and maybe he can ask Pedro if he’s got anything he needs to wash while he’s at it.

Satisfied, Shouyou’s just about to shut the bag closed when he spots something out of the corner of his eye. He can’t really remember what it is, so he digs it out, pulling out the cloth for it to unfold in his hands. He touches the fabric, the cotton smooth on his fingers, a deep blue that seems so familiar to his eyes, almost like—

Oh. This isn’t his hoodie, Shouyou realizes all at once.

It’s _Kageyama’s._

The memory flashes before him in that instant, clear and vivid as though it was just yesterday. It brings him back to cloudy skies and milk aisles and shy smiles and eyes that looked like the northern lights. It was from that time Kageyama had asked him to go grocery shopping with him, and it had begun to rain before Shouyou could make it back home, and in a spur of the moment decision Kageyama had handed his hoodie off to him. Shouyou’s pretty sure he promised to return it, but it seems that they’d both forgotten all about it.

Well, until now. He must’ve packed it accidentally, or maybe his mom had placed it inside without him noticing, thinking it was his. Shouyou just stares at it, almost accusingly, like it’s done something to him. He should probably tell Kageyama that he has it, and apologize that he’s kept it for so long. That seems like the smart thing to do, right? Kageyama might be slightly annoyed, but ultimately Shouyou could just point out that Kageyama forgot about it too, and then that would be the end of it.

He reaches out for his phone, and types out a message to send the setter—when he stops himself with the realization that it’s probably three in the morning over where Kageyama is, and that it’s not a good idea to disturb him when he’s so busy. Slowly erasing the message, Shouyou tells himself that he can just tell Kageyama later, when it’s a more reasonable hour. But in the meantime…

With hesitant fingers, Shouyou slips the hoodie on above his head, fitting his arms through the holes and seeing how the sleeves hang just a little ways off his fingers. It’s still a little loose on him, and it hangs off of him, but he’s grown a bit that it doesn’t look too awkward. Shouyou feels the fabric, relishing in how soft it is. It may not smell like Kageyama with how long it’s been, but Shouyou doesn’t really mind. Instead—and he knows that this is stupid and embarrassing, and his best friend can _never_ know—it makes him feel a little closer to Kageyama, in such a small way, like he’s still around instead of a whole world away.

Like even if Shouyou couldn’t keep his love, he can keep this.

He can never tell Kageyama about this. That would be too weird, wouldn’t it? That he’s holding onto a piece of _clothing_ , and that he’s using it to ground himself in something that doesn’t exist. So he’ll just hold onto this a little longer, wear it for a day or two, and then maybe he’ll send it back to Kageyama. He’ll give it back.

Eventually.

Checking the time on his phone, Shouyou figures that he should get going. He removes the hoodie, mourning the warmth that it had momentarily given him, knowing that it would be even more hot outside, and it would be ridiculous to even try wearing more layers than necessary. He makes sure to grab his sunscreen and phone before he exits the room, and waves Pedro goodbye, telling him not to wait up and that he’ll be back later.

Shouyou adjusts his cap, and hops on his bike, readying himself for the games to come as the excitement shoots through him, preparing himself to make the most of it. It’s time to play.

Volleyball is fun. This is a fact that Shouyou learns time and time again, even when he stumbles and falls into the sand, picking himself right back up and laughing at his own mistakes. Volleyball is fun, because it means you can always try again and again and again, and it will wait for you to reach the peak, urging you to push yourself to your limits and aim for something more than grand stages and spotlights. Volleyball is fun, because it is about playing more than it is about winning or losing. Volleyball is fun because it’s about connecting.

Shouyou feels pride bloom inside of his chest as he sets the ball over to Oikawa, who slams it down and earns them a point. It’s amazing to watch just how quickly Oikawa had adapted to playing beach volleyball, wielding it like a second weapon, watching their opponents so well that Shouyou asks him if he’s even got eyes on the back of his head. It opens up something within him, and Shouyou carves the reminder into his memory—to be a proper decoy he needs to be able to fool his opponents, just like Oikawa had. There’s so many new things to try when there are only ever two people on the same side, and it would be a waste not to try everything and see what works or not. Shouyou can feel himself getting better too, with every match and every game and every point scored, he feels something shift inside him, the gears turning and clicking with precision as he figures out his movements, step by step.

They win a couple games, and lose a few more. Sometimes Shouyou will partner up with Oikawa, and other times they’ll play against each other. It’s in those adrenaline-chasing moments, golden in the glinting sunlight, that Shouyou catches glimpses of that captain he’d seen years ago, grinning and smirking, looking as prideful and smug as can be, as though he’s played this game for years. And Shouyou watches as Oikawa stops yelling at the wind to blame it for his slip-ups, and starts laughing at himself for them, like he’s realized that volleyball is fun again, just as Shouyou always does. He beams, like pieces falling into place, and Shouyou is really, really glad that he’s here in Brazil.

It’s like he’s finally found the right momentum, evened out his pacing, one foot in front of the other. His hands stop shaking and his legs start moving, pushing against the sand as he tries to master his jump; he stops questioning why he’s here and looks forward, because what’s the point in wondering when he should be playing? It helps that Oikawa’s here, to prove to Shouyou that even professionals take time in learning something new, no matter how familiar it had once been, and that sometimes a little bit of home is all you need to find your balance, and to remind him that things are always easier when you keep your head held up high instead of staring at the ground.

Volleyball’s always been a sport where you’re always looking up, after all. Shouyou knows that well by now, and he loves it more than anything. This, he reminds himself, is why he’s doing it all in the first place. Even if it’s difficult, even if it’s rough, there’s nothing else he’d rather be doing. He doesn’t think he’s ever felt better.

Shouyou slams the ball down, cheering as it hits the sand, and his hands come up to slap against Oikawa’s, hard and stinging, feeling the victory sharpen a grin across his lips. They thank the couple they’d been playing against for a good game before parting ways, stretching out their limbs to cool down. The sun’s already began its descent down the horizon, splitting the sky into a gradient of warm colors, pink streaks mixing in with a bit of orange, and it reminds Shouyou a lot of the ones he’d seen back home every day after practice—so it rings true then, that everywhere in the world holds the same sky. Shouyou finds comfort in that, in the fact that he’d been right about that all along.

Some people even approach him to ask about potentially being partners for the tournament that’s coming up, and Shouyou smiles and easily agrees. He needs all the experience he can get; he knows that practice tends to make perfect or permanent, depending on how you look at it, but it’ll give him something new to learn from all the same. Shouyou shakes their hands and finds the right words, nodding fervently and bounding in excitement. This is a good way to start, and he’ll make the most of all his mistakes. That’s why people are given chances, isn’t it? To make mistakes, and to try again once they’ve messed up.

Once he’s finished, he goes off in search of Oikawa, eyes surveying around the beach to spot the former Seijoh captain. There aren’t too many people around anymore, just a couple of people strolling around the seaside, a few people swimming afar, splashing as they go. Shouyou spots a group of kids playing by the water, giddy with giggles that fizz right into the hair, their hands clutching sand buckets as they run back and forth, digging into the sand with their fingers to build wobbly sandcastles. Shouyou remembers a time like that back when he was a kid, standing with his ankles in the saltwater, a red bucket in his hand as he faced against the horizon, daring the sun to go to sleep. It’s been a long time since then.

Eventually, he finds Oikawa Tooru sitting by the shore, staring out towards the horizon with a faraway look in his eyes. He’s got his knees pulled up to his chest, shoulders loose and relaxed, and the sun reflects back on his eyes, turning them into something close to daylight itself. A boy made of gold and lightning, the breeze blowing softly against his hair.

Shouyou takes the spot next to him, feet crunching up in the soft sand as he sits criss-cross, leaning back on his arms. He tries to follow Oikawa’s gaze, watching the waves crash against each other before lapping softly against the shore, highlighted blue with the yellow-orange of the evening sun. The sea is gentle today. Kind, even. The type of ocean that will tell you secrets if you will listen, the type that makes you more honest, even to yourself.

Shouyou wonders what he will find today.

“What are you thinking about?” Shouyou finds the courage to ask after a moment. He wonders if Oikawa will let him in on something that seems so private. He hopes the trust they’ve built the past few days will be enough, even if just to lighten the load a little bit.

Oikawa hums, solemn. He turns away from the ocean to glance back at Shouyou, a small, wistful smile on his lips. “Why’d you come here?”

Shouyou blinks. “Don’t you know already? It’s what we’ve been doing this whole time,” he says, thinking of all the games they’ve already played together, but the moment the words leave his lips, he knows that it’s not really what Oikawa means. There’s something else there. Rolling his shoulders and dragging a finger across the sand, he adds, “I need to get better. Stronger.”

“You…” Oikawa says softly, his voice like the tail end of the wind. When he looks at Shouyou, there’s a sharpness in his eyes, like a mirror reflection of something familiar. “You chose to keep going in a world that gave up on you before you even began. Why?”

Shouyou stills for just a moment. He knows that volleyball is a sport where it’s best to have height on your side, something he’d been bitter about for a long time before he’d come to accept it. He’s heard the whispers and the snickers too many times not to carry them with him like an old ghost, the disbelief that someone like him was on a volleyball team—and a starting member, no less—but that made him want to strive all the more for it. His love for volleyball was greater than anything else; it was larger than any tidal wave of mockery that came at him, and Shouyou stood stable and defiant against the currents. He learned to fly despite of it, grew wings that helped him soar, and had teammates that helped him see the other side. It’s how he’s come this far.

Shouyou looks at Oikawa, and shrugs his shoulders. “If I gave up every time someone told me I couldn’t do it, then there’d be no point in doing anything at all,” he answers, and it’s as simple as that, and it is for him, because it’s all that he has. He loves volleyball, he wanted to fly, and nothing or no one could possibly stop him from getting there. A surefire determination in his bones that can’t be weighed down by anything.

“I have a promise to keep,” Shouyou continues, and his fingers rub against a tiny seashell buried in the sand, shining in the fading rays of the day. “I have something to prove. This is the only way I know how.”

It’s a couple of moments before Oikawa speaks again, his lips pressed into a thin life as he thinks. “So it’s the same for you then,” Oikawa says, his voice so quiet that Shouyou finds it a little uncharacteristic of him, all soft and blurry edges.

He looks at Shouyou, taking a deep breath as the saddest smile leaves itself on his lips. “No one tells you just how hard it is to leave,” Oikawa says, and he glances back out at the world before them, like the sea holds answers it isn’t willing to share. “But the idea of staying hurt even more, right?”

Shouyou trembles, and it’s as though all his memories of every loss, of ever blocked spike and missed receive coalesce into one great vision before him, sinking into his bones like a heavy anchor and bringing him down weary in his chest. He shakes as he remembers the frustration and the agony, and the undeniable want to _become better_ , to prove that he could hold his own. He remembers like it’s a fresh wound that a band-aid can’t ever cover, and he marvels at just how Oikawa had known, with pinpoint accuracy so precise it could’ve rivaled his jump serves.

For a moment, Shouyou looks at Oikawa, at the distant look in his eyes, and he thinks he understands a little bit. He’s heard the stories from Kageyama, how Oikawa had felt threatened about his skill as a setter, never prodigious to begin with, and how Oikawa had never quite been able to defeat Ushijima in a match. He’ll never be able to grasp the full extent of it, of course, but he thinks he understands enough of it. The need to prove your worth becoming so great that it swallows you whole, and that you’ll do anything to get there. Shouyou gets that. He’s living through it.

“Yeah,” he breathes into the sea breeze. There’s something there now, stuck in his throat, as he tries to make sense of all his feelings, stumbling around clumsily. He thinks of how he’s gotten here, and what he’s trying to hurtle towards. To the person who’s waiting for him there at the end. “Is it—was it a promise? To anyone?”

Oikawa gives Shouyou a confused look, before understanding floods through his features like a steady river. “It’s a promise to myself, mostly,” he answers, but then his eyes grow distant again, focusing on the horizon line, where the sky meets the sea without a fixed distance. “But,” he says, and his voice is so soft that Shouyou almost misses it. “But I told someone that I’d come back one day. And that they’d have to watch out for me, because then I’d be the best. I’d make them see me.”

Shouyou doesn’t say anything for a moment, surprised at the similarities in their reasonings and in their words. Maybe he and Oikawa Tooru are more alike than he’d ever thought was possible. “I have…” Shouyou says, wearing a small smile and wondering if he should test the waters. “I have someone like that too. I think I told them that exact same thing, that I’d come back, and that it would be different.”

Oikawa hums a melody that the ocean seems to love, slowing down the seconds just for this moment. He isn’t even looking at Shouyou when he says, “It’s Tobio-chan, isn’t it? The person you promised.”

Shouyou had figured a long time ago that Oikawa was more attentive than most—setters tend to be, even if _certain_ ones can be quite oblivious about the obvious things sometimes—and Oikawa seems to know a lot more than he lets out about things, so this time it doesn’t surprise him all that much. Shouyou always mentions him in stories, so it’s no wonder that Oikawa had picked up all the pieces and connected them. Here, Shouyou doesn’t have to hide it, not when he’s so far out of reach.

“Yeah,” he answers, if a little grim when he thinks about sky-eyes and blue boxes of milk, at the boy who doesn’t know all that Shouyou could say about him. Then, Shouyou remembers that conversation they’d had the first time they met, at the fondness in Oikawa’s eyes as he told his stories. “And yours is Iwaizumi-san, right? Your ace.”

Oikawa’s eyes widen, but Shouyou just shrugs. “He’s not—he’s not my ace,” the setter says almost defensively, but Shouyou hears the twinge of sadness in it—longing, maybe. “He hasn’t been for a long time now.”

He remembers Kageyama telling him, back in their first year, that Oikawa and Iwaizumi have known each other since they were kids. “But he’s your best friend,” Shouyou points out. “He’s still yours.”

“Iwa-chan was never mine,” Oikawa says, and there’s no calling it anything else but yearning now, the way his voice crumples at the edges, sad and nostalgic as he stares towards the deep sea. He mumbles, voice small, “Not…not the way I wanted him to be.”

It confirms Shouyou’s suspicions, but he’s too sad to be happy about being right. The way Oikawa looks out to sea as though there is something in the distance that he wants but cannot have—it’s a feeling Shouyou knows all too well. He still hasn’t forgotten. He knows his own tale enough to recognize when it’s being mirrored back at him.

“Then how do you get through it?” Shouyou can’t help but ask, because he knows the hurt and he’s held it, and he’s tired of the way that it asks for a price he cannot give. “How do you make it feel better?”

Oikawa stares at him for a moment, before it finally clicks into place behind his eyes. Then he laughs, a soft but dry sound, bitter just at the very core of it. “What do you think I’ve been trying to do for the last few years?”

Shouyou slumps. “So we’re the same then.”

The setter raises an eyebrow. “Just to be sure,” he says. “Tobio-chan?”

Shouyou nods, feeling a little defeated. He tries for a weak grin. “How could it be anyone else?”

Oikawa lips rise into a kinder smile, and he stretches out his legs to lean back on his arm, an attempt to ease the tension. “Well, then,” he says, and the light turns him golden. “Tell me your story. We’ve got time, don’t we? How does it go?”

Shouyou bites his lip, looking right up at the clouds to search for something familiar—and isn’t it just funny, how he finds one that he thinks looks like a crown, bearing a resemblance to the king he knows that Kageyama’s become. “I think it’s a story you’ve heard before,” he says, and doesn’t need to look back at Oikawa to know that he understands just what he’s referring to.

“Tell me anyway,” Oikawa says.

Shouyou releases a breath, and he realizes that these are words that he’s kept inside for so long, that their shapes are unfamiliar and foreign in his mouth, and he isn’t sure what they’ll look like once they’ve left him. Will they turn out to be something pretty instead? Or will they be as helpless as he feels?

“It doesn’t have a happy ending,” he warns Oikawa, feeling a tightness constrict in his chest. He thinks of the day he left, how Kageyama had handed him a gift, and how he had words to say that Shouyou doesn’t know. What is he keeping that time took away from them?

Oikawa nods. “Most stories don’t, but we still listen to them, don’t we?” He shoots Shouyou a reassuring smile. “Better out with it than in. It helps a little.”

He takes a deep breath. In, out. Just start from the beginning. Back to when the sky had burst into pink and orange, and he hadn’t been able to keep a declaration from spilling out of his tongue. Back to when they had met again in the gym, and everything had changed with one good toss. How Kageyama had been there when Shouyou had a fever at Nationals. How Kageyama had looked in the winter, his nose pink with the cold, and how he’d let Shouyou hold him for warmth. How he’d smiled, and Shouyou had known instantly that he was ruined.

“I think I was always gonna fall in love with him,” Shouyou says, fingers clutching at the sand but finding no purchase. “I knew it wasn’t meant to be, but I loved him anyway. I love him anyway.”

Because without Kageyama, Shouyou knows he wouldn’t be here right now. How could he not learn to love Kageyama, when he’s somehow everything he’s ever wanted? When Shouyou is so willing to climb mountains and cross oceans for him, just to see him smile? How could he not, when Kageyama is the nicest and most caring person Shouyou’s ever met? It just takes a little time and patience and work to see it, to _feel_ it, but it’s there underneath all the layers, and it’s the realest thing that’s ever existed, so gentle and warm that Shouyou longs for him the same way flowers long for the sun. How could Shouyou not, when Kageyama is somehow all that he’s missed before he even met him?

“And I…I knew from the start that it wouldn’t work out. Because it’s _Kageyama,_ and you know how he is. He doesn’t think about anything but volleyball, and we both had to focus on it. We didn’t have time for anything else,” Shouyou says, breath a little shaky. He brings his knees close to his chest and hugs them. “That’s why I tried to change the ending. Before we even got there, I told myself I’d never say anything, because it would only end terribly if we tried.”

He sucks in a sharp breath. “But—” he says, feeling the sting in his chest, and he looks back at Oikawa, uncertainty dancing in his eyes. “But then why is it still terrible, even if we didn’t?”

That’s the thing about all of this, Shouyou thinks. It’s the knowledge of his missed chances. The hardest part of all of this is knowing that they could’ve been happy, even if it was just for a while. Would that little pocket of happiness have been worth all the pain it would inevitably bring? They’d have to go their separate ways either way—this, Brazil and Tokyo, it’s something that would have always happened—and Shouyou wonders if it would hurt more or less right now if they had tried. He doesn’t know the answer.

Shouyou hangs his head low in his hands, and mumbles, “I don’t know what to do. I don’t—I don’t want to stop, but I don’t want to feel like this either. I just—” His voice breaks, stuttering on air, and Shouyou hugs himself tighter, as if that will help hold him together. The pain is raw and throbbing in his chest, and he doesn’t know what to do with it, with all these feelings inside of him that feel like they’re spewing out of a volcano. Like he’s walking a tightrope but keeps on missing, unbalanced with every step he takes.

“I just wanted to give us a happier ending, you know?” Shouyou says. “I didn’t mean for it to end like this.”

“Then rewrite it.”

Shouyou looks up at Oikawa. “What?”

“Rewrite it,” Oikawa repeats, looking directly at Shouyou, his expression more sure than anything else. “Rewrite it again and again until you’re satisfied.” He doesn’t look away, his voice and gaze steady and unwavering. “Then when you’re done,” he says. “Tell me a better story.”

And Shouyou stares at him, letting the words sink in all over, right into the very core of his being. For a moment, Shouyou sees that boy again, the Grand King, the one who had held confidence at the tips of his fingers and had the meanest and most powerful jump serve he’d ever seen. He sees that eighteen-year-old kid again, cocky and prideful and determined, and Shouyou wonders whatever happened to him. Adulthood, maybe. Maturity. Oikawa Tooru has changed a lot since then.

_Rewrite it. Rewrite it again._

“Think you can do that, chibi-chan?” Oikawa asks, the slightest smile on his lips, and Shouyou feels as though the ground rumbles below him with the declaration still running through his mind.

_Tell me a better story._

How is he supposed to do that? How does he rewrite something that’s already been set in stone?

Unless—unless it isn’t. Unless it never was. Not if he makes it to be that way, or if he does nothing. This is still all up to him, isn’t it?

But it’s up to Kageyama too.

“But what if rewriting it isn’t enough?” Shouyou asks him, setting his palms down on the sand, as if coming closer will give him more answers. “What if I don’t get it right again and it’s even worse than before?”

“It’s what you want, isn’t it?” Oikawa tells him with an eyebrow raised. “If it is, then you won’t stop until it’ll be exactly how you want it to go. You like leveling up, don’t you? You don’t seem like the type to ever give up on anything. And if you’re true about this, then you’ll get it right. That is, if this is really what you want?”

“He’s the dumbest and most arrogant person I’ve ever met,” Shouyou says. “I don’t ever wanna live without him.”

Oikawa smirks, satisfied. “Then it’s settled. Figure out what you have to do, then do it. And come tell me once you have so that I can tell you that I was right.”

Shouyou swallows down his words as he tries to process them. What that would entail? What would he have to do to fix it? He’s still unsure about telling Kageyama about his feelings, about just how grand and massive they’ve become, but maybe if he started out slow, or dropped some hints, then maybe…?

“Oh,” Shouyou says, slumping as he remembers something vitally important. “There’s a problem,” he tells Oikawa, trying not to let the bitterness sink into his words. “Kageyama said he liked someone else.”

Oikawa raises an eyebrow, like he doesn’t quite believe it. “Are you serious? Do you really believe that?”

Shouyou looks at him. “What do you mean? That’s what he told me.”

Oikawa only continues to look at him strangely, before dropping his shoulders and looking out to the sea. “Believe me, chibi-chan,” he says with a sad sigh and longing eyes. “There really isn’t anyone a setter notices more than his spiker.”

Shouyou doesn’t need to guess whether Oikawa is talking from experience or not. He’s clearly talking about Seijoh’s ace—his _Iwa-chan._ But what does that have to do with him and Kageyama?

“But if Kageyama likes someone else—if he _still_ likes them, then there’s nothing I can do about it,” Shouyou reasons, feeling a little anguished over the tiny fact. He doesn’t know if Kageyama still keeps the crush in his chest, and Shouyou still, for the life of him, can’t figure out who it is. Kageyama had told Shouyou that he might tell him one day, but that had been so long ago that he’s not really sure how to bring it up in conversation.

“It’s _your_ story, remember?” Oikawa reminds him, waving a hand around, seemingly not a bit worried about this new fact that Shouyou had presented to him at all. “It is what you make it is. You won’t ever know unless you try.”

“Then does that mean you’re going to try with Iwaizumi-san?” Shouyou asks, tilting his head a little to the side.

“Wh—what, no! No, of course not!” Oikawa sputters, turning flustered as his cheeks glow pink. “This is about you, not me!”

“Why not?” he asks. “Isn’t it just the same story, but told a little differently?”

Oikawa opens his mouth, ready to argue back, but nothing comes out, keeping him stunned. Shouyou thinks it’s a little funny to watch, but he remembers how Oikawa had looked at the skyline, desperate and yearning, looking for something that wasn’t there. Isn’t that just the same thing Shouyou’s doing?

Isn’t Shouyou just thinking of Kageyama and his storm eyes, the crooked smile that rises unwittingly to his lips when he’s genuinely happy? Shouyou sees him whenever he closes his eyes, and maybe it’s come to the point that Kageyama Tobio is the one thing Shouyou never wants to let go of, even if he said he would. He doesn’t want to, not anymore. He doesn’t want to hold back. If he’s going to rewrite this story, then he’s going to make sure he’ll get everything right this time, whatever that means for him. He’ll figure it out.

Shouyou stares out at the great expanse of deep blue before him, fractured in strokes of pink and red and orange, and it’s not that hard to figure out who exactly it reminds him of. It’s the same eyes he’s caught himself staring at too many times, just wondering how much of the sky it held, and how far it would take to map the whole universe. Shouyou knows who they belong to, and he tries to imagine himself bridging that distance, no matter how far in the world.

“Maybe,” Oikawa mutters after a moment of consideration. “Maybe you’re right, but Iwa-chan’s… He’s never seen me like that.”

“But you said that you were gonna make him see you,” he says, furrowing his eyebrows. “Why not just go all the way? Just like what you told me. It’s what you want too, isn’t it? Then go after it.”

“It’s not that easy,” Oikawa says, and Shouyou wants to make him understand the words he’d just said to Shouyou. Why wouldn’t it apply to him? “Iwa-chan knows me better than anyone else. He knows I’m a handful. It’ll be a lot of work.”

Shouyou pauses, thoughtful. “But if he’s stuck by you this whole time,” he says after a moment. “Then maybe it means that to him it isn’t. Not if it’s you. He cares about you, just as you care for him. He wouldn’t have let you make that promise if he wasn’t going to hold on the other end of the thread.”

Oikawa blinks at him, a contemplative look in his eyes as he considers Shouyou’s words. A shroud of solemnity covers them both as they listen to the way the waves lap at the shore, leaving and returning, the tide like a cycle to prove that everything always comes back, one way or another. Just as they will, one day.

“If it works out for you,” Oikawa says quietly, his tone just on the fragile, starglass eyes holding something vulnerable. “You’ll tell me, okay? Maybe…maybe that’ll mean that there’s hope for me after all.”

Shouyou nods, feeling something resolute take root inside of him. First, he’ll have to figure out how he’s going to approach this. Shouyou’s always lived on spontaneity on the court, but this is something he thinks he needs to handle with care. It’s not going to be easy, not when there are two hearts on the line, and the tightrope’s never been more wobbly than it is now. This must be what a true free fall is—the leap of faith without knowing what’s at the bottom. Maybe he’ll get his answer after all, and know what it really means to fall from the sky.

He bites the inside of his cheek. “Do you really think I can do it?” he asks. ”Do you think it’ll go well?”

And Oikawa just looks at him and grins, that charming and confident smile that’s got the whole world tucked into all its knowing. “Definitely,” he says, without hesitation, a tone full of certainty that it gives Shouyou a thrill up his spine in the face of it.

Perhaps that’s the thing about Oikawa Tooru, Shouyou realizes. He makes you believe in him. It’s his greatest weapon. His trust, and how you inevitably give yours in return.

The sun’s mostly gone now, leaving twinkling stars in its wake, and Shouyou’s stomach rumbles with something hungry, and he realizes, with a sort of longing, that their time is almost up. It seems that he’s never been able to escape the sliding of the hour hand, no matter where he is.

Might as well make the most of it, he thinks, as he gets back on his feet, and dusts the sand off his shorts. He extends a hand out to Oikawa. “Let’s go get some dinner,” Shouyou tells him with a gentle smile. “I still owe you from the first night, remember?”

Oikawa smirks. “Lead the way, chibi-chan.”

While on a run on familiar Tokyo streets, Kageyama Tobio stops and looks up at the new morning sky, watching the way the blue and yellow mix like a watercolor painting, quiet as the world begins to wake along with it. He watches as the clouds float gently by, and for a moment he just stands there, trying to make shapes out of them, a habit that’s grown into his very being. He watches as the heavens change colors ever so kindly, and how it reminds him of a boy he’d met, who always looked at the sky as though they held a prayer for words that didn’t exist.

_I look at the sky to remember._

He watches, wondering where Hinata Shouyou is now, and remembers their promise of invincibility. Tobio knows that all he has to do is wait, because Hinata’s always been able to keep up with him. And one day, they’ll be side by side again, and everything else will fall away.

On a beach in Rio, Hinata Shouyou looks up to the sunset sky, awestruck at how the orange bleeds into the pink and purple, mixing together to create a whole new color entirely. It takes him back to the afternoons he spent walking next to someone on the way home, always waiting for each other to fall into step, in sync no matter the occasion. He feels the ache of swallowing starlight, and it reminds him of the winter boy who trusted him enough that he was never afraid of falling.

_How could I ever forget?_

He wonders what it’ll be like to share horizon again one day, and knows that it’ll only be a matter of time before things fall back into place. Kageyama is waiting for him on the other side, and Shouyou will be there to greet him at first light.

The streets are busy tonight. People flood every corner and every block, milling around underneath the stars, bustling around the shops and restaurants. It’s a loud night, Shouyou thinks to himself as he pedals by, the sounds of laughter and chatter constant in his ears like a hum, following him with each turn he takes. Someone’s dinner is already beginning to cool inside his delivery bag, and Shouyou’s done a lot better the last few weeks about getting lost, but the streets are still quite hard to navigate with all these people around.

He fumbles as he tries to slow down, pressing his feet against the concrete instead of using the brakes out of habit, half-walking and half-sitting as he rounds a narrow curve. It opens to a wider street, where restaurants stand all lined up, men sitting on the outside tables with glass bottles on tables, fresh food sitting on plates. Shouyou’s stomach grumbles with his own hunger, and he reminds himself that this is his last delivery for the day, and he can go home and have his own dinner once he’s done. His eyes search the street signs, trying to morph them into something he can understand, mouthing the street name he needs as he tries to find it.

Just as he’s a few feet away, a loud chorus of _oooh_ ’s and _ahhh’s_ erupts from one of the groups sitting outside a restaurant, their eyes wide with wonder and bewilderment. He’s headed in that direction anyway, so Shouyou moves forward, his curiosity piqued as he tries to get a glimpse of what’s going on. He spots the hanging TV that they’re all fixated on, and Shouyou’s heart stills when he takes in what’s happening on the screen.

“ _A service ace! What a fearsome nineteen-year-old!”_ the announcer says, a little muffled from the sounds of the streets, but Shouyou hears each word with striking clarity, unable to take his eyes off the screen. “ _Tobio Kageyama!”_

The camera zooms in on Kageyama just then, the red of his jersey bleeding out of the screen and into Shouyou’s eyes—the number _20_ emblazoned on his chest, unfamiliar to him—as he pumps his fist with a cheer, that prideful glint in his eyes that Shouyou would recognize anywhere. He thinks he’d know those eyes anywhere, even in a different lifetime, or even in a dream.

Shouyou watches Kageyama, as all the breath leaves him, and everything comes rushing back all at once.

Because there is Kageyama, who Shouyou hasn’t seen in months now, bright and bold and on the highest stage that either of them have ever imagined. There he is, in the red jersey that Shouyou’s only dreamed of so far, playing volleyball and spinning the ball in his hands that’s more familiar to Shouyou than any blue sky. Six times, and he barely registers it as he mutters _go killer serve_ under his breath—some habits are hard to break. There Kageyama is, Shouyou’s whole heart right there on that television screen, and there he goes, soaring like he’s always been meant for grander heights. The world is finally witnessing Kageyama Tobio, and Shouyou had known that it would always happen, but watching it unfold before him—

A sharp pang hits him in the chest, filled with all the longing and yearning he’s had to keep within him for years, and Shouyou’s throat closes up, unable to breathe properly. He’d gotten so used to going slow about his love that it feels as though it’s suddenly slammed into him, finally catching up to him and turning him blind and breathless. Because there, right there, is Kageyama Tobio, moving like a lightning strike, and Shouyou wonders if it is right of him to ask a storm to love him back.

The camera cuts back to the whole court, and the loud chorus of cheers breaks him out of his reverie, and Shouyou blinks, feeling winded despite the lack of movement. He breathes sharply, in and out, in and out, and shakes his head, trying to snap himself out of it, attempting to remove what’s left. But matters of the heart have always been messy, and it lingers even now, the red of the jersey and the blue of Kageyama’s eyes still crystal clear beneath the shadows that Shouyou crosses.

All he can think about is the way Kageyama had looked under those fluorescent lights, looking brighter than any star in the sky. He’s filled with so much longing, with a want that he can’t seem to satisfy, and he wants so _badly_ to be there, to hold Kageyama’s hand, to whisper his name like he’s never held anything more precious on his lips. All he wants is to be able to sit down and listen to Kageyama tell him about his day, and tell him his own stories in return. Shouyou’s never felt anything more than he does at this moment, and it _aches._

It hurts, because Shouyou had thought he was doing fine now, and he didn’t think about Kageyama all that much to the point that it hurt like this, instead focusing on what Oikawa had said to make it better. But this is the reality of their story—presented to him by pixels on a television screen, trying to bridge the gap between them. Between a thousand wins and losses, standing at the brink of something beautifully tragic. And how cruel it is, that Kageyama is here in Rio just as Shouyou is, walking the same ground and breathing the same air, as close as they’ve been in months but also farther than he’s ever been. It’s terrible, and Shouyou had thought he was doing well now, getting the swing of things, but Kageyama had shown up unannounced, and making a mess of things, just like he’s always done.

Maybe he should’ve seen it coming, that nothing could ever be so simple.

As he sucks in the cool night air, Shouyou tries to calm himself down. He tries to even out his breathing, replaying the scene over and over again. He misses Kageyama. That’s a fact so simple it’s to say that he breathes oxygen. But he’d fooled himself into thinking that it had gotten better, like a simple undercurrent of his thoughts that didn’t roar so loudly, but now it’s back.

It’s like Shouyou had missed him in a tiny way, so small that he could put it in his pocket, and keep the loneliness and yearning with him everywhere he went, but unnoticed enough to be forgotten for a while. But then it’s as though seeing Kageyama again had made his hand brush against that slip of memory, and he feels wide awake all over again, remembering every moment they’ve spent together like he never left at all.

And who does Shouyou think he is, feeling like this, when Kageyama was never even his to miss?

Sometimes, when he lets his guard down, Shouyou sees Kageyama’s face in every crowd. But it’s always just a trick of the light, impossibly phenomenal, like a lovelorn ghost that will always come back to haunt him, writing letters into the wind that will always return to the sender. He’ll spot nightfall hair, or glass-ocean eyes, or stardust skin, and it’ll all come back to him at once, knocking the air out of his lungs. It’ll remind him of vespertine nights in the summer, when fireflies danced on their fingertips and the moon shone down on porcelain skin, and Shouyou had promised something he thought he could keep. But he’s still here, still trying to cross that bridge, still walking that tightrope.

Shouyou grits his teeth, hating the way it feels like he’s being torn open raw by a single moment of time, where Kageyama is miles away on a grand stage, while Shouyou is here on the streets watching him from afar. He’s always loved Kageyama from afar, hasn’t he? Isn’t that just a little tragic in its own way, that the reason why he’s here is that he’s trying to keep up, but all he can see before him is that wide gap between them?

 _Rewrite it,_ Oikawa had said.

He clenches his fists, and turns upward to the sky. The deep blue glinting with flecks of silver stars—it reminds him of a color he feels he’s known his whole life, painting his whole world and marking itself on his skin. He doesn’t think he’s known anything else—he doesn’t need to, not when he’s shaped himself into loving it. Of course love would be hard, Shouyou had known that from the beginning. But he made himself for it, didn’t he? Because despite everything, despite all that it’s come to, it’s golden in his lungs and burning red in veins. It’s daylight on his tongue and suntan on his skin. It’s everything he’s ever wanted but nothing he’s been able to keep, but Shouyou had promised he would try. Because Kageyama Tobio has been there from the very beginning, and Shouyou had promised to meet him at the end.

Remember, that this is what Kageyama had told him, back then when the world threatened to take everything away: _I’ll still be there._

And so he will keep going, keep hurtling towards the end at terminal velocity. He is learning patience by its name, and he will treat it like an old friend. He will get there eventually. His goal still hasn’t changed.

Gripping the handlebars, Shouyou looks at the TV screen one more time, watching as the camera focuses on Kageyama handing off another service ace, and feels his heart clench with something determined and resolute. He’ll get there one day. He’ll cross that bridge and he’ll find Kageyama at the end of the tightrope. He’ll make it, he’ll rewrite it, and he’ll make Kageyama see him. He’ll do it all.

With a deep breath, Shouyou looks away from TV, and bikes away into the night. He doesn’t look back.

> From: Kageyama
> 
> _Hey_
> 
> From: Kageyama
> 
> _Are you free_
> 
> To: Kageyama
> 
> _yeah!!!!_

“—nata? Are you there? Can you hear me?”

Kageyama’s voice crackles through the rickety Internet connection, filled with background static. It’s been a while since Shouyou last heard his voice, and something in him loosens when he does, untying a knot in his heart and unraveling it all the way across the world like an invisible string.

“Kageyama! Hey! How are you?” Shouyou says. The screen flickers once, twice, before Kageyama comes into view. It’s dark where he is, but with enough light for Shouyou to still see. He looks a little different from when Shouyou saw him last, hair a little longer with his fringe cut a little neater, looking just a bit more older. But even through the screen, Shouyou can tell that his eyes are still the same—still as clear as ever, cut from the cerulean sky itself.

Kageyama smiles, small and crooked, and Shouyou feels warm inside. “Just fine,” he answers, his words as simple as they’ve always been, earnest without cutting corners. “Practice finished early today, and I’ve already gone on my run, so I wasn’t really doing anything. What time is it there?”

Shouyou nods along, and he glances at the small digits at the corner of his screen. “It’s nine in the morning,” he tells Kageyama, the light filtering in through the curtains, sharp and golden. “I just got back from breakfast.” He rests his chin on the palm of his palm, leaning a little forward with a small grin. “You don’t look like you’ve changed at all, Kageyama-kun.”

Kageyama just rolls his eyes. “Why would I look any different? I’ve been here this whole time,” he says dryly. Narrowing his eyes, he adjusts his position. “You,” he starts to say, as though he’s still struggling to find the right words. And Shouyou hasn’t forgotten, as practiced as he is in the art of deciphering Kageyama Tobio, that all it really takes sometimes is a little bit of patience. “You do, though. Look different.”

Shouyou raises an eyebrow. “Good different or bad different?”

Kageyama’s lips press together, and Shouyou can just barely make out the faintest trace of pink on his cheekbones, visible even in the slight shadows. “It’s good,” he settles on saying after a moment, sounding a little strained. Shouyou wonders what the words taste like in Kageyama’s mouth, if they taste as sweet as they sound. “You look good. It’s…nice. It suits you.”

And Shouyou blinks, because even after all this time, he remembers the code he cracked a long time ago. For Kageyama to say that something is simply _nice_ or _fine_ or _whatever,_ it’s Shouyou’s counterpart of saying _gwah_ and _pwah_ and thinking that something is incredibly cool or awesome. It’s a _compliment_.

Shouyou grins, glowing with positivity, and ecstatic that Kageyama thinks so. “You really think so?”

The red on Kageyama’s cheeks only deepens, and he averts his eyes away from the camera. “Dumbass,” he mutters, loud enough for Shouyou to hear. “I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it. And you can’t make me say it again.”

Shouyou laughs softly, bringing up a hand to cover his smile. Kageyama’s always been so earnest, and Shouyou finds it a lot more endearing than he should. Kageyama looks back at him, but his glare vanishes, his eyes turning softer around the edges as he lets out a loose sigh.

“By the way,” Kageyama says. “I saw your sister the other day, when I went back home for the weekend.”

“Really?” Shouyou asks him, a little surprised. “What’d she say?”

Kageyama huffs a little. “She misses you, obviously. Wouldn’t shut up about you, she’s like your number one fan, did you know? And she even tried to ask me for tosses! Honestly, she’s like a smaller version of you. For a second, it was like you never left.”

Shouyou hears the light humor in Kageyama’s tone, but he thinks he’s imagining the gentle sadness of his last few words, echoing lonely behind his ears. It’s probably just the static. Instead of wondering any longer, he puts on a smile. “Aww, does that mean you miss me, Kageyama?”

The setter just rolls his eyes again. “As if I’d miss you,” he says, but Shouyou has a feeling that there’s something else there. Something deeper, held back by the gap between them. “You really should call her, you know. She kept asking me questions about you.”

“I know, I know,” Shouyou says, a little guilty. He _had_ been meaning to, honest, but he always seems to forget. “Tomorrow for sure. I don’t want to bother her while she’s studying or practicing. She’s the captain of her volleyball team! Can you imagine?”

Kageyama snorts. “Guess she didn’t get that from you.”

“Hey!” Shouyou exclaims, offended as he crosses his arms. “Low blow, Bakageyama. That was just mean.”

“Isn’t it true though? She’s smart too,” Kageyam quips back, a steady challenge rising in his eyes.

“At least I don’t confuse metaphors during the super important tests!” He shoots Kageyama a pointed look.

“That was _one time.”_

“And it would’ve been zero if you’d listened to me,” Shouyou states, and when he hears Kageyama groan, he knows he’s won.

“Are you ever going to let that go?”

“Never.” Shouyou grins. “Even Yachi told you I was right! But did you listen? _Nooo.”_

“Oh, shut up,” Kageyama mutters. Shouyou just snickers to himself, remembering the day they’d gotten their test results back, and he’s been so triumphant that he’d forced Kageyama to buy him two meat buns as a prize—not that Shouyou only ever buys just one meant bun, anyway, it’s silly but he always gets two so that the other won’t be lonely. “Hey, have you talked to the others lately?”

Shouyou nods, and lets himself slip easily into a smile. He tells Kageyama about the conversation he had with Yamaguchi a few days ago, all the souvenirs he’s bought, and the new album that one of his favorite artists had just released. He rants to Kageyama about something he doesn’t agree with in the manga he’s currently reading, and tells him about this new recipe he’s trying out. He shows Kageyama all the pictures of the beach he’s taken recently, and some of the photos from the art museum he went to a couple days ago. He introduces Kageyama to all the plants that hang around his windowsill—one of them’s even named after the setter itself, because it’s all prickly, and Kageyama rolls his eyes at that (it’s also the plant that Shouyou likes talking to the most, but he doesn’t tell Kageyama that). He tells Kageyama about all the days he’s had, every little interesting story he can find, spilling it out for his best friend to hear over ocean waves and mountain tops.

And it feels a lot like nothing’s ever changed between them, as though Kageyama is right next to him as he rambles on, making the occasional comment and sharing a story or two of his own. It’s like they’re just hanging out in Shouyou’s bedroom again, talking and bickering when they really should be doing homework, swapping stories and tales and questions. It makes Shouyou feel like he’s sixteen again and hopelessly in love—but that second part hasn’t really changed now, has it?—and inventing things just so that he can have something to say to Kageyama. Like he’s back to never running out of that tenderness to keep Kageyama close with words and actions, never empty of him, not even for a single second. It feels like that, rings in his ears like a promise being fulfilled time and time again, proving that some things won’t let distance take anything away from them.

It fills up a hole in Shouyou’s heart, like a reassurance that everything will be fine, and that it always has been. That when he comes back, they can just pick up right where they left off, and he won’t have anything to worry about. That Kageyama will be there as he promised, and Shouyou will be there to greet him hello, as if there was never a goodbye. There is no risk of an ending by starting a greeting, because maybe some things are never truly over, and this gives Shouyou an opportunity to do something about it. To rewrite it in a way that saves them both and ties them to something kinder, no matter the outcome. Shouyou is still looking for the proper way to approach it.

“—but then it ran away! I was so close, Kageyama, but I think it got scared off by the bike that passed by, and you would’ve loved it, I think, it was _adorable_ ,” Shouyou tells him, his cheek pressed against his palm as he recounts his encounter with a stray kitten. “It had thick black fur, a long curly tail, and it had really bright blue eyes—isn’t that a little weird? I don’t think I’ve really seen one with blue eyes before.”

Kageyama hums, listening as Shouyou speaks. “I think I’d like a kitten one day,” he says, voice soft and dreamlike, and Shouyou wonders what the vision Kageyama sees before him looks like—selfishly, he wants to ask if he’s in this future too, if he’s hanging around Kageyama just as he’d like. “I don’t know if it would like me back, though.”

“I’m sure it will,” Shouyou reassures him easily. He’s always known that Kageyama had a fondness for animals—cats, especially—and that their dislike towards him has been a fear of his for a while now. Maybe getting a pet will finally prove it otherwise. “You just need to take care of it properly. I’ll help you.”

Kageyama blinks, surprised. “You will?”

“Yeah, duh!” Shouyou exclaims. “I mean, obviously, if you get one _now_ , I won’t be able to help as much compared to in person, but I’ll do what I can to learn stuff for you.”

“And if I get a pet years from now?” Kageyama asks, his voice almost hesitant—a bit strange, even.

“Then I’ll still help you,” Shouyou says, and he has half a mind to panic about just how much years he’d promised Kageyama without thinking, wondering what Kageyama thinks of it. Is it too forward of him? He knows he can come off a little too strong sometimes, but Kageyama’s never seemed bothered about it before. “If—if that’s okay with you, of course.”

Kageyama only looks a little confused, topping his head to the side. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

Shouyou shrugs, feeling the relief sweep through him. “I dunno. Just in case you thought that it was too much, ‘cause I mean, we don’t know how the future will go, or where we’ll be, you know?”

Kageyama doesn’t look away. “I don’t know where I’ll be five years from now,” he says, voice so soft that Shouyou can hear the static that comes along with it. “But I know that I’d still want you in it.”

Shouyou feels his face burst into flames, his heart unraveling right at the seams. “ _Kageyama_ ,” he hisses, and he puts his hands against his face, trying to cover himself up. His stomach is doing somersaults, and his heart beats like a hummingbird, and oh god, does Kageyama know that he has this effect on him? “You can’t just—why are you like this—so _stupid—”_

Kageyama’s always been honest to a fault. Most of the time, Shouyou likes this about him. Other times, it’s the cause of his own undoing.

Kageyama frowns, and he looks so cute that Shouyou thinks he’s dangerously kissable like that, even through a screen. “What do you mean, I didn’t even say anything—”

“Hey, Shouyou, I found the volume I was talking about earlier,” Pedro says, suddenly appearing in Shouyou’s doorway, holding a volume of _Hunter x Hunter_ in his hands. “Do you still want to borrow it?”

“Oooh, yes, yes!” Shouyou says excitedly. “You can just leave it on the table. I’ll go read it later.”

“I can start preparing lunch too, if you want?” Pedro asks.

Shouyou glances at the clock. It’s nearly twelve already, he hadn’t noticed so much time had already passed. It should be almost midnight where Kageyama is now. “That would be great, thanks!” Shouyou tells Pedro, who nods before walking away and off into the kitchen.

He looks back at the screen, about to apologize for the interruption, but Kageyama’s already wearing a scowl on his face, and Shouyou makes a confused sound at the back of his throat.

“Who was that,” Kageyama asks, his voice flat as he narrows his eyes, and it doesn’t sound all that much like a question.

“That was my roommate, Pedro,” Shouyou says. Has he really never told Kageyama about him? He’s pretty sure he’s told Pedro a million stories about Kageyama by now, though. Maybe it’s just never come up before. “He’s a lot like Kenma sometimes. I think you’d like him,” he says a bit cheerily, trying to lighten up the mood.

“I didn’t know you had a roommate,” Kageyama says, still in that flat tone, and it only serves to make Shouyou even more confused. Shouyou _knows_ Kageyama, and he’d been completely fine earlier, but now there’s something completely off about him—does this mean he’s mad about something? Is it because he got interrupted?

“Yeah,” Shouyou answers, his answer coming out a little confused. “Haven’t I told you about him before?”

Kageyama shakes his head, his expression still a mystery to Shouyou.

“Oh,” he says, slumping a little backwards. “Well, he’s in college, and he likes some of the same manga I do, and we get along pretty well. We even went out for breakfast this morning, like I said. He’s really cool, and he also knows Japanese! He even comes to some of my matches sometimes! He’s a good friend.”

Kageyama seems to be less tense with Shouyou’s words. “So he’s…a friend?” he asks, sounding a little hesitant, and Shouyou can’t really make it out that well with how dark it’s gotten, but he thinks there’s a flush on Kageyama’s cheeks. “Just a friend?”

Shouyou looks at him, still not quite understanding. “Yeah?” he says, furrowing his eyebrows. “He’s not being mean to me or anything, if that’s what you’re worried about. He was a little shy in the beginning, but it’s fine now.”

Kageyama looks relieved, and Shouyou doesn’t get it at all.

“What was that all about?” he asks Kageyama, squinting his eyes at him. “Were you really that worried? Between the two of us, I’m not the one who has trouble making friends, remember?”

Kageyama sputters, “No, that wasn’t—I don’t have trouble making friends!”

Despite himself, the corners of his lips tug upwards, and Shouyou smiles. “I know, I know, you’ve been getting better at it,” he says teasingly. “But I still remember how you were back then, don’t forget. It took you _months_ before you were finally nice to me.”

“That was not months,” Kageyama retorts. “It was at least a few weeks. But that’s because you were annoying.”

Shouyou barks out a laugh, and he adjusts his camera a little to show himself better. “And you were the mean one!” he says, and he pushes his fringe down on his forehead, mimicking Kageyama’s old haircut from high school. “ _I’m Kageyama Tobio, and I love eggs and milk, and I don’t like talking to people, except Hinata, because he’s super funny and charming and he’s awesome at volleyball—”_

“Is that my hoodie?” Kageyama blurts out all of a sudden, looking directly at him, and Shouyou freezes.

He looks down at the jacket he’s wearing—and sure enough, it’s the dark blue one that he’d borrowed and unknowingly never returned. He honestly meant to tell Kageyama and return it, but it had just felt so nice, and then the more he wore it, the more he liked it, and he forgot all about giving it back. It was like having Kageyama with him, even when he was far away.

Shouyou remains rooted to where he’s seated. He could lie, and say that it’s his own—but Shouyou’s also an incredibly terrible liar, and Kageyama would probably be able to see right through him. He’d know in an instant, and that would be even more embarrassing.

“Uh,” Shouyou says, and he feels his cheeks warm, and it’s suddenly so very hot. “Please don’t be mad,” he tells Kageyama, feeling very worried and guilty. He gestures wildly with his arms as he rambles on, “I didn’t realize I had this whole time, and I must’ve accidentally packed it too, ‘cause I was surprised when I saw it again, and I _was_ planning on telling you, I swear, but I guess I just forgot, and it’s really comfy, okay, and I’m really sorry I thought I gave it back ages ago, and if you want me to return I’ll ship it back to you first thing tomorrow—”

“Hinata.”

“—so you don’t need to worry, and I’ll even wash it for you before I do, just to be sure—”

“Hinata.”

“—just please don’t be mad, it was your fault too, you know, for forgetting it back then, and I didn’t mean—”

“ _Hinata,”_ Kageyama says, loud enough to interrupt him, exasperated as he looks directly at Shouyou. It stops him entirely. “You…” he says, looking a little unsure, eyes shifty. “You can keep it. If you want. I don’t mind.”

Shouyou blinks. “You…don’t?”

Kageyama just shrugs. “I don’t really need it, if I forgot about it for that long,” he tells him. Then his face turns pink again, like the skyline in the evenings. “And it—it looks better on you anyway,” he mumbles out quickly, glancing at something outside the frame.

“Oh,” he replies, a little numb. His fingers rub against the fabric, soft against his skin. He feels himself blush. “Oh. Thanks. I really didn’t mean to keep it this long, I promise.”

Kageyama waves a hand dismissively, still pointedly looking away. “It’s fine,” he says back, his voice tight and cracking slightly.

Shouyou hums, picking at a loose thread as a stilted silence settles over their shoulders, unsure of what to make of it. He thinks to himself quietly, wondering what Kageyama sees when he looks at Shouyou. He hopes it’s all good things, a pretty thing even, or if he sees what Shouyou could be at the end of all of this. He wonders how often he appears in Kageyama’s mind, and what the image of him looks like. If he’s made to be something extraordinary and spectacular, if Kageyama remembers him as a firecracker best friend, or if Kageyama still sees that scrawny kid in a green jersey. He doubts it’s the last one, mostly because he knows that Kageyama had already believed in him to some extent even then, and Shouyou’s proved himself worthy a hundred times over. He’s just got one more thing to prove, and that’s why he’s here. But for the most part, he wonders what Kageyama sees when he looks at him. If he glances over and thinks about the love on his lips, the way Shouyou does. If there is any love for him at all, one that exceeds the boundaries for friendship.

He doesn’t dare hope for it, and shuts that thought immediately. They’re something else, something different. Maybe not the kind that runs through airports, like he’d thought before, but the type that will be waiting for the arrival instead.

“Hey, Kageyama,” Shouyou says, the words slipping out of his mouth before he can catch them and put them back. Where do dead words even go? Is there some metaphorical graveyard for them to rest? “Do you remember that time before I left? You were going to say something. What was it?”

He hopes he’s as brave as he sounds, swallowing down the fear in favor of curiosity, and hoping that it won’t kill him.

Kageyama looks surprised; he clearly hadn’t been expecting it. He presses his lips together in a straight line. “I can’t tell you yet,” Kageyama finally answers after a heartbeat gone on for too long. Shouyou tries not to let the disappointment crush him when a part of him already knew that it would be the answer. “When you come back, remember? I’ll tell you then.”

“I know,” Shouyou says, trying to imagine what the words will be, that Kageyama has to keep them locked up until then. “You promised.”

Kageyama nods. “I did.”

“Okay,” he says simply. The tan on his skin, the sunburn in his shoulders—they are all evidence of his patience. Shouyou can wait a little more. “I’ll be waiting for it then.”

The setter hums in agreement, before his mouth opens for a loud yawn, covering it up with his mouth. There are more shapes dancing around his skin now, Shouyou notes, and he glances at the time. It’s been hours already since they started talking, and he hadn’t even realized. It always tends to be like that with Kageyama—he makes numbered days seem infinite, stretching out beyond them as though they have all the time in the world.

“You should probably get some rest,” Shouyou says, apologetic, as Kageyama yawns again. He finds himself yawning too—is it contagious? Can it be, even through a screen? “You have to get up early tomorrow, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” Kageyama agrees, and Shouyou thinks that he sounds a little sad. He could be inventing it, but they both know just how far a good rest can take you, and it’s always important to take care of your body. “I’ll… Can I call you again tomorrow? Would that be okay?”

Shouyou grins. “Of course,” he says easily, going through his schedule in his head and finding relief when there’s nothing there yet. “Same time?”

Kageyama nods. “Same time.”

It feels a little melancholic, like this. But each goodbye is never the last one with the two of them, and Shouyou’s learned to stop fearing the risk of it, not when Kageyama has always promised him a _next time_ , multiple times before this one.

He smiles, a bit sad and a bit lonely, but he comforts himself in the fact that he will be able to see Kageyama again tomorrow, and what’s a few hours to a lifetime of waiting? “Good night, Kageyama! Make sure you have some good dreams, alright?”

“Stupid,” Kageyama says, but his smile is nothing but fond. “I can’t control stuff like that.”

“Still. It’s worth a try,” Shouyou offers, and Kageyama just rolls his eyes. “Night, dummy.”

“See you,” Kageyama says, and Shouyou memorizes the way it sounds, echoing in his ribcage, just before the line disconnects, and the screen turns black.

It leaves him alone in his room, but the usual heaviness of longing isn’t there to chase him—instead, something light and kind has taken its place, making the golden sunlight a little softer around the edges, and Shouyou swallows the sunbeams as they fall into his skin. From the edges of the curtains, he can see the bright blue of the sky, and he finds comfort in how it makes him remember. This time, he does not hurt. He does not ache. He lets himself bask in the warmth, in the softness of the hoodie he wears and the memory of the boy who once owned it, and keeps this love close to him. It hasn’t learned to sit still just yet, but Shouyou’s always been good at keeping pace. He has hope that one day, he will finally figure out how to make it stay.

What Kageyama Tobio said:

  1. Is that my hoodie?
  2. You can keep it. If you want. I don’t mind.
  3. It looks better on you anyway.



What Kageyama Tobio meant:

  1. What does it mean that you’ve kept it for this long?
  2. You can keep it forever. Forget your things in my life, so that you have an excuse to come back for them later. I will leave the door unlocked for you. I will leave the lights on. So please come in, make yourself comfortable. You can stay for as long as you want.
  3. I will welcome you home.



“You’re not wearing that.”

Tobio frowns, and looks down at his clothes, feeling defensive. “What’s wrong with it?”

Miwa tsks, putting her chin in her hand, before shutting her eyes briefly and shaking her head. She gestures back at him with a pointed look. “Tobio,” she says exasperatedly. “You can’t wear a tracksuit to _dinner._ Please don’t tell me you go out like this all the time.”

He feels his cheeks warm, and he crosses his arms. “That’s none of your business.”

She just sighs again, rubbing her temple. “Do you remember those jeans and the blue shirt I gave you last Christmas? Go put those on, and hurry, I don’t want to be late.”

Tobio has half a mind to argue that there’s at _least_ a quarter of an hour before their even reservation at whatever fancy restaurant they’re supposed to be going to, but then Miwa gives him another look, and he resigns himself to heading back into his room, grumbling all the way. His clothes were _fine_ , and Miwa’s just being picky, as always. She’d even given him a haircut earlier because his fringe was getting too long, and she couldn’t help herself. Tobio just sighs, and considers himself generous. It’s not every day that his sister comes by to have dinner with him, anyway.

Once he’s finished changing, he leaves the room with a light scowl on his face, meeting Miwa at the doorway where she’s tapping her foot against the tiles. She looks over him once before nodding, satisfied, and she unlocks the door, and Tobio follows after her.

The late evening sun is spilling onto the pavement, catching rainbows on leftover puddles from the light shower earlier, the plants by the sidewalk dripping gently against the soil. The smell of rain is still fresh in the air, a sort of hazy blue-gray that blankets the world in its wake, a little misty. The buildings stand tall and wide, towering skyscrapers in the heart of the city, neon lights flickering on as the sun makes its way down the horizon. People hustle by next to them, crossing paths and intersections as the streetlights ask questions with no proper answers, still lingering in the aftermath of a blurry day. It’s not too busy, and Tobio traces the bricked homes that line the edge of the street, watching as a cat balances itself on the wall, preparing itself for an impossible trapeze act.

It sort of makes Tobio feel as though he’s trapped in a different time, unmoving, the punctured yolk of the sun’s orange contrasting with the muted blue, a little surreal as he walks by the spaces. Like he’s a little out of touch, and if he were to look closely, he’d find the chinks in the vision, learning just where to poke to fall right in. If it weren’t for Miwa’s steady presence next to him, old and familiar, Tobio thinks he might’ve been able to convince himself that he was in a different time.

“Almost there,” Miwa tells him a couple of minutes later, checking the time on her watch. It’s the one Tobio gave her for her birthday. She checks the digital map on her phone as they stop at a streetlight, furrowing her eyebrows in concentration. She’s not a lot better at directions than he is—it might be a Kageyama thing—but she’s more likely to get them there in one shape.

The light turns red, and they start walking, the beeping echoing across the street to serve as a heartbeat warning for how much time they have left. They round the corner, and Tobio spots the restaurant two buildings away, with a stool outside to hold the menu. When they finally reach it, Miwa goes out to speak to the waitress standing outside with a bright smile, and asks about their reservation. With an enthusiastic nod, the woman leads them both inside.

The restaurant is nice, Tobio thinks. It’s nice in the way some things are fancy but still mellowed down, not as sharp as it is gentle, the patterned walls decorating the place with vibrant colors as a chandelier hangs from the ceiling. There are picture frames and newspaper clippings hanging around on the wall, of families and old faces, yellowed and bleached at the edges. Strangely enough, Tobio thinks he even spots a photo of a hamster—Hinata would probably argue that it’s a guinea pig, because he claimed to have one as a pet when he was younger—but maybe it’s all just for the eccentricity of it all. Places always have at least one weird thing about them.

It’s not too full, but there are a few people around—families sitting by the middle, couples tucked into the booths by the corner, a group of friends laughing softly to one another as they banter back and forth. There are stairs that lead upwards to a second floor, and Tobio can make out a few low-hanging lights and some more tables and chairs from where he’s standing. He and Miwa are led to another corner by the window, cushioned to the back with comfortable-looking chairs. He takes the seat across from his sister, able to see the whole restaurant behind her.

“So,” Miwa says, as she picks up her menu, her eyes scanning over the selections. “How have you been? Any games coming up?”

Tobio shrugs, looking through the list himself. They have pork curry, but Miwa would probably chastise him for not making the most of the food they have to offer. “I’m okay,” he says simply. “We don’t have another game for a month since it’s the off-season, and I’ve been focusing on practicing on making my serve better.”

Miwa hums. “I would’ve thought your serves were perfect by now,” she muses with a smile. “They look like they’re good enough to kill sometimes.”

Tobio feels his face warm just a bit. Back then, when he was younger, Miwa had been the first person Tobio had ever seen to perform a jump serve. He hasn’t forgotten how mesmerized he’d felt watching her, barely even able to manage a regular one on his own without fumbling. So it’s a compliment that he feels lucky enough to grace his ears, because as much as they bicker, Tobio still holds his sister’s opinion in high regard.

“Thanks,” he mutters, focusing back on the menu, not wanting his sister to see the satisfaction of making him feel just a slightly bit more pleased with himself. Clearing his throat, Tobio drums his fingers against his leg. “What about you? Has anything interesting happened?”

Miwa sets the menu down, folding it up and placing it to the side as she rests her chin against her palm. “Not anything much more different from the usual bookings,” she replies, gazing out the window. But then her eyes lighten up just a bit, like golden sunbeams breaking through clouds in the sky, and she adds, “I recently got a couple of appointments with a pair of half-Russian models, brother and sister. I met them a few days ago, and we’re scheduled to meet next week. They were really nice, but the girl…”

Tobio has a good idea of where this is going. He raises an eyebrow, already feeling a smirk rise to his lips. “Yeah? What about the girl?”

Miwa’s attention snaps back to him, the tips of her ears going pink in embarrassment. She rolls her eyes, and crosses her arms. “Oh, shut up,” she huffs. “You, of all people, are not allowed to make fun of me.”

“I wasn’t going to make fun of you,” Tobio says, holding his hands up in surrender, but he feels his lips twitch into a small smile, betraying him anyway. “You can tell me.”

She rolls her eyes again. “Tell you what? All I know about her is that she was nice, _and_ she was pretty. Seemed really talkative, too.”

“I didn’t know you liked that type,” he retorts, dodging when Miwa tries to swipe at him from across the table, nearly knocking the glass down. “Okay, okay, I’ll stop.”

Miwa scoffs. “Anyway, like you’re one to talk,” she says, and then there’s a mischievous glint in her eye that Tobio doesn’t like at all. “At least I’m not the one who’s been in love with the same boy for the last _four years_.”

Tobio sputters, growing warm, “That’s—that isn’t—shut up.”

Miwa laughs, smirking at being able to have gotten back at him. She hums. “Well? It’s true, isn’t it?” she asks, and Tobio’s silence is more enough of an answer. He really shouldn’t have ever told her anything, Tobio thinks to himself mournfully.

Before either of them can say anything else, a waitress comes over to let them order their food, and Tobio orders pork curry anyway, ignoring the look Miwa gives him. There’s even an _egg_ in it _,_ how is Tobio supposed to resist something like that?

Miwa’s smile turns into something kinder, her voice softer and gentler when she asks, “Have you talked to Hinata-kun lately? How long has it been since he left?”

“I called him last week,” Tobio tells her with a light shrug. For a moment, he remembers what he’d seen—he hadn’t been all that sure if it was his hoodie, but then Hinata had moved and the light shone, and the question had tumbled out of his mouth before he could even shape out the words properly. He feels his cheeks grow hot at the memory. “Almost a year now.”

Tobio doesn’t tell her that it’s been exactly three hundred and forty-nine days and nineteen hours.

She hums again, twirling the straw of her drink around with her finger. “Did you ever…you know?”

“What? Tell him?” Tobio clarifies, raising an eyebrow. The thought of it still makes his heart skip, even when it’s been so long already.

“Yeah,” she says, looking a little concerned. “I’m sure you’ve thought about it, right?”

“Of course I have,” he says, biting the inside of his cheek. He stares directly at the table, focusing it hard enough to drown out everything else. “And I…I almost did. I almost told him once.”

Tobio breathes, and the air doesn’t smell like fresh rain anymore—instead, it’s a lot like early spring, like he’s standing at a bus stop waiting for the clock to tick down and leave him be, his hands shaking as he holds a blue phone case in his hands, handing it over like it’s his own heart, to the boy with the summer eyes. Tobio remembers that day almost like it was yesterday, and he’s reminded of that accidental promise he’d made. It was never supposed to happen, but Hinata had been standing there, looking so happy and sad and beautiful all at once, and Tobio had suddenly remembered that he was leaving, and that Brazil was thousands of miles away, and for all the times he’s sworn for a _next time_ , he hadn’t been sure when exactly that would be.

Tobio couldn’t help it—his chest swelled with something he couldn’t tame in time, and if the world had slowed down just a bit he’s sure he would’ve spilled all his feelings on the concrete for everyone to see. He would’ve said it, would’ve let those three words slip right by his mouth, and Hinata would’ve heard him.

But he still wouldn’t have stayed.

“What happened?” Miwa asks, leaning forward, a question in her expression. “Why didn’t you?”

“It was too late,” he tells her, trying not to sound too bitter. The thought of telling Hinata still terrifies him more than anything—but in that moment, while his fear had been tremendous, his love had been bigger. He wonders if he will ever find the courage to get that far again. “And he—he made me promise that I would tell him whatever I held back once he came home. But I don’t… I’m not sure if I can, or if I’ll be able to.”

Miwa reaches over the table, and takes Tobio’s hand gently, squeezing it in reassurance. “I’m sure you can,” she tells him, her voice soft but steady. “If you really mean it, if it’s what you want, then it’ll come out.”

“And if it changes things between us?” Tobio asks her, and it’s the age-old question, isn’t it? It’s the reason why he’s held back for so long, because he’s afraid of what Hinata will think when he learns of it. It isn’t a matter of trust so much as it is a matter of losing it. “I don’t—I don’t want to lose him again.”

“I know I don’t know Hinata-kun that well, or as much as you do,” Miwa says, looking thoughtful as she places her words around Tobio carefully like it’s a table game. “But I can tell that he’s as stubborn as you are when it comes to things you care about. I doubt that he’d let it get in the way of what you two have. And what you guys share…it’s something extraordinary, even off the court, Tobio. I’ve seen it.”

She squeezes his hand again. “Did you know,” she says with a smile, “that you started smiling again after you met him?”

Tobio blinks. On some level, he thinks he’s always known that. Hinata is the only person who manages to make him laugh as much as he does, and he’s the reason why Tobio had grown into love the way he did. But to hear it come from someone else—it’s something that Tobio can’t quite shake off.

“You won’t ever know what somebody’s truly feeling until you ask them,” Miwa says, gentle. “I think you should try asking him.”

“But if he doesn’t—”

“Tobio,” she says, calling for his attention. “Tell me. It hurts being apart, doesn’t it?”

He answers almost immediately. “More than anything.”

Miwa nods. “And don’t you think it would be better to stay together instead?”

“Of course I do,” Tobio tells her, a little confused. Doesn’t she understand? Of course that’s what Tobio wants—he’s been waiting for Hinata his whole life, so why wouldn’t he want to be with him? Tobio would stay anywhere in the whole world if it meant Hinata would be there with him. “But—”

“You told me before, that the reason you couldn’t do anything was because of volleyball,” Miwa continues on, holding his hand tightly. “But you’re not in high school anymore. You’re on a professional team. Hinata-kun is in _Brazil_ , trying to get to where you are. And once he does—because we both know damn well that he will—you two will finally be on equal footing. Neither of you will have anything left to prove.”

She looks directly at him, and Tobio finds a kind hurricane within her eyes. “So after all of this, after all you two have been through together, after all you’ve done,” she says, taking a deep breath. “What else is there for you to lose?”

Tobio stares at her, letting the words sink in down to his very bones, echoing something loud in the crescendo drumbeat of his heart.

“You can’t use volleyball as an excuse to hide behind anymore. You’re both strong enough that it won’t be affected. There won’t be the problem of distance or timing either. And as for your friendship,” Miwa says, her eyebrows knitting together ever so slightly. “Do you really think so little of your bond that you believe something like this could sway what you two have built brick by brick? I don’t think Hinata-kun is the type to ever go down easy without a fight.” She squeezes his hand again. “And neither are you.”

Tobio doesn’t know what to say. Her words are still racing in his mind, like they’re hurtling towards a conclusion that he will eventually come to when he finally makes sense of what his sister is trying to say. Could he really get that far with Hinata? Could he really have that with him? Is he allowed to have something like that?

He remembers how Hinata had taken something he hated, something he was scorned for, held it in his hands, and turned it into something beautiful. _The new King of the Court,_ Hinata had called him. A new beginning, like he had been waiting for Tobio to step into his title this whole time. Tobio remembers it, and he wonders if Hinata will ever know just how much it had meant to him, that he’d been patient long enough for Tobio to finally come around.

Vaguely, Tobio registers the sound of a pop song playing through the restaurant’s speakers, muffled under the chatter of the customers. But it’s a beat he knows, a melody recognizes—it had been one of Hinata’s favorites, so much that he always sang along to it, to the point that even Tobio knew some of the words. _But what’s the good of a love song,_ Tobio remembers asking him once, _without any of the love?_

Hinata had looked at him then, overly-bright eyes and all, grinned and replied, _It’s about hoping, remember? It’s about hoping for love._

“Just think about it, okay?” Miwa says, and she squeezes his hand one more time before letting go. Tobio’s barely aware of his own movement, nodding stiffly, his mind rushing to see what he finds. Their food arrives within the next moment, and Tobio is saved from saying anything else. Miwa seems to take the hint, possibly even able to see the gears physically turning within his head, and thankfully decides to leave him be. And so Tobio is left to his own devices, glancing out the window where the light hits the puddles, the sunset falling behind the buildings, and he braves himself before facing all his thoughts.

This is what he thinks:

The sun did not exist before Hinata Shouyou.

He is a surefire shotgun, bright and bubbly, bouncing around with endless energy, laughter bottled inside of him, and easily contagious. His smile is a flare of the northern lights themselves, the colors in his eyes sunbeams trapped into a kaleidoscope of a phenomenon that science has yet to explain properly. His hair is as fiery as the evening glory, his words searing itself onto skin, sung of praises and hymns, and his freckles are the dots of the galaxies as the rest of the universe tries to keep up with him. The heat of his palms is a cozy fireplace, like sitting by the hearth even as winter rattles on, untouched and sheltered. His boundless optimism works wonders to dispel the shadows, and every person becomes hopelessly enamored with him within the first second of meeting, caught within his orbit with no hope of any reprieve in sight.

Perhaps it’s true then, that gravity is matter’s response to loneliness, because Tobio has yet to be free of Hinata’s inevitable pull.

And maybe he should be more embarrassed of how quick it had all happened, just like the moon and its tides, pulled back every time he even tries to step away—a never ending cycle that he resigned himself to when he realized that some things are just meant to stay—just as the waves always come back to the shore by morning. It’s how Tobio feels as though he sees Hinata everywhere he goes, little bits and pieces of him: in the sunflowers that grow by the sidewalk on his way to the train station, in the white-gold light that falls onto the blades of grass, in the bright mismatched socks he sees a kid wearing, in the loud laughter that rings in the air when he’s at the park, in the orange hair clips tucked into a girl’s hair, in the stars at night that glow like they know all the secrets he keeps within his ribs.

Tobio is relentlessly, hopelessly, foolishly, pulled back every time he tries to leave, the shadow chasing the sun over and over again, just waiting for the day that he will finally make it. Waiting for the day he is pulled close enough for the sun to swallow him whole, until there is nothing left of him to salvage. But would that really be so bad? Wouldn’t that be such a lovely way to fall into ruin?

Perhaps this is love disguised as imperfect science, because Tobio has never been poetic enough to capture the incandescence of a wayward sun, and he could never be able to anchor it down to hold it in his hands without burning. He doesn’t think he’d even want to.

 _And don’t you see?_ gravity says. _Without hands, how am I supposed to let go?_

One cannot live without the sun. Tobio doesn’t want anyone else.

It isn’t that he doesn’t think he deserves Hinata either. He knows it isn’t; it’s never really been about that. While Hinata is the best and most phenomenal person Tobio’s ever met, he’s also aware of every single one of Hinata’s shortcomings—he’s loud and messy and stubborn. He chews too loudly and he kicks in his sleep and he doesn’t know when to quit. He’s far from perfect—but so is Tobio. And every day since he’s met Hinata, it’s been a long and arduous journey of trying to make himself better, of trying to make himself _for_ Hinata, just as Hinata has made himself for Tobio without realizing it. He could argue day and night about how much of a better person Hinata is, but that wouldn’t get him anywhere. Tobio puts the work in, and in the end, he hopes that it will be enough.

So maybe one day, he will tell Hinata. He will tell him the truth because the chances of him finally falling away from the orbit is lesser than him finally summoning the courage to say it. Because Miwa is right—this time, there are no excuses for him to hide behind. There will be nothing left for him to lose, not when they will both be standing on their own feet in volleyball, not when their friendship has survived even this test of time and distance, and has easily proved that it could bend over mountains and dive into oceans, seeing the rise and fall of cities alike. He will tell Hinata all about this one day, and he will fulfill his end of the promise. He’ll start all over again if he has to.

And one day, he will summon the courage of stars, and he will finally learn the answer to the question he’s longed for this whole time. In the end, he will finally know if he’d been able to make it love or not. Hope, Hinata said, is what it’s all about, remember?

Tobio hopes for love more than anything else.

> From: Natsu
> 
> _NII-CHAN HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!!! you better bring back presents when you come home!!!!_
> 
> From: Kenma
> 
> _Happy birthday, Shouyou. I sent you some clothes with the latest logo design. I hope you’ll like them._
> 
> From: Yamaguchi
> 
> _HAPPY BIRTHDAY HINATA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!_ (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧
> 
> From: Tsukishima
> 
> _Turns out you survived another year. Happy birthday._
> 
> From: Yachi
> 
> _HINATA HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!!!! I’m so happy to have you in my life!!_
> 
> From: Kageyama
> 
> _happy birthday dumbass_
> 
> _your present should come in the mail today_

_OG BABY CROWS is calling…_

On a sunny afternoon in October, Shouyou is sitting by the beach again, his bones and muscles weary and exhausted from a series of matches that he’d participated in. The sand is warm underneath his skin, soft and gentle, and the waves crash softly against the shore, lapping to and fro. The sunset sparkles down on the water, glittering and shimmering, pooling orange on clear blue, mixing them together to make something otherworldly. There is a gentle yellow on the horizon, where the line is blurred in silver, softening the edges and making the whole world a lot softer. The clouds are hung in the air, pink like cotton candy, and Shouyou watches them, shaping them into an infinite number of little things, and he thinks of what he told a boy about the heavens once. What it meant, that they still stand under the same sky.

Maybe he’s looking back, worlds away.

Next to him, Heitor lets out a deep breath, sitting cross-legged. He looks out to the sea just as Shouyou does, and Shouyou’s sure that he’s just as tired as he is from today’s games. Heitor is a good partner to play with, and he’s very reliable, backing Shouyou up in the spots that he misses. Shouyou remembers the day Heitor had approached him, calling him _Ninja Shouyou,_ and asking him to partner up for the tournament. Since Shouyou plays to help others and learn for himself, he’d agreed easily, which is why he’s where he is now. He’s played with a lot of people, and he’s glad to have found and kept some friends along the way. Heitor is one of them.

Shouyou hums an old pop song, one of his favorites back from high school, a cheesy one about love. Kageyama hated it. Smiling softly to himself, he lets himself continue, and simply embraces the whole world for where he is now, breathing in the sea salt and the warm breeze. For every day that there is a sunset, each one is never exactly quite like the other, always a new, unpredictable mix of watercolor and acrylic, so Shouyou appreciates each and everyone as he can. He’s heard that too much repetition sometimes makes things too monotonous, but that’s never really been the case, not when you turn it into a game to see what grand scheme you can come up with today. He sits there, memorizing the way it feels on his skin, and knows that there will never be a day like this again. It’s all the more reason to cherish it. Maybe that’s the beauty of it all.

His hands have never liked being idle for too long, so he moves them around the sand, forming clumps and widening in his legs so he has more room to work with. It’s not as neat or efficient as it would’ve been if he had a bucket, but he manages to make a small hill, and tries straightening it out into something sturdier. It’s been a while since he’s made a sandcastle of his own, but the movements are still practiced, if a little rusty. He knows what to do.

Shouyou’s always liked stories. He tries to think of one now, about a king and his kingdom, the subjects underneath his rule. He thinks of a story with a prince and his knight, with magic and dragons and monsters. Maybe they had to set off on a perilous journey, or the kingdom fell to attack, and the prince had to take over the army and defend the kingdom. Maybe he learned how to soften his heart along the way, learned to arm himself with words just as well as he did with swords, accepted the role he was born into, and wielded it with both trust and pride. Maybe he learned to be patient, too, and hope for the best. Maybe he learned that he was deserving of beautiful things, after all, and he let himself accept the kind things. Maybe he learned how to love. That would make a pretty good story, wouldn’t it? With a little more action and heroic deeds, of course.

Just as he finishes trying to mold a second layer, shaping it to resemble more of a castle with proper structure, Heitor shifts his gaze away from the sea, and turns to Shouyou, the glint in his eyes settling into something determined and hopeful.

“If we win tomorrow,” Heitor says, steady and grounding. “I’m going to propose to Nice.”

Shouyou nods. Heitor had already told him that he would earlier that day—that if they took the Solcard Cup, he would get down on one knee, and he’d ask for Nice’s hand in marriage. Hearing it the first time had shocked Shouyou down to his very core—that Heitor was putting something so important from his daily life on the line, and he’d felt a little pressured. But Heitor had seemed assured, and Shouyou had later realized that it was a little like everything he’s done so far. He’d come to Brazil for volleyball, didn’t he?

And he’d remembered Kageyama, how he treated everything seriously—from taking care of his nails to whatever food he ate, and wasn’t it similar? Volleyball is more than just a hobby, to him, to Kageyama. It’s a whole world that they get to keep, a life where they get to keep living and start over. Everything is volleyball, just the same way that for Shouyou, Kageyama is so closely tied to the game that he can’t ever think of one without the other. He doesn’t need Kageyama to play anymore, of course, but they’re two things Shouyou holds tightly to his chest. They’re connected to each other just as they are connected to him.

“We’ll win,” Shouyou tells him, grinning. After months now, the slippery and foreign feel of Portuguese on his tongue has finally started to grow more familiar, a little more friction as it makes itself comfortable in his mouth. “I’ll hit any ball that comes my way.” He’ll do his best, just as he always tries to do. He’s come this far.

And if it’s for a friend, Shouyou is determined to try even harder.

Heitor grins at him, holding out his hand for a fist bump. Shouyou meets him halfway, his smile sharp with resolution.

When the next day comes, Shouyou is a buzz of electricity and adrenaline, shooting through his veins like lightning, the ground rumbling when he jumps up to spike the ball. He’s gotten the hang of it now, running up jumping _into_ the sand to reach a greater height, and he’s never felt more free in the air. It’s not restricting at all, and he’s able to do exactly what he wants to try to score a point.

The wind is unpredictable and shaky, as Shouyou thought it would be, but it seems to be even more so today—something that their opponents seemed to have accounted for, with how they choose which side of the court to begin with. Beach volleyball is absolutely crazy, Shouyou decides, and that knowledge only seems to fire him up even more. They’ve already won the first set but lost the second, and the crowd is cheering by the sidelines. Even Pedro and Lucio had come to watch, and Shouyou had seen Nice earlier, watching with eager eyes and a smirk. He wonders if Heitor is nervous.

At the peak of the game, rally after rally, Heitor runs up to set the ball, his jaw set in determination, and Shouyou goes up to spike it down. But the wind blows past, and the blockers are prepared—they push the ball back down, and Heitor isn’t able to dive in time. Shouyou lands on the ground as the whistle blows, and the crowd erupts into loud cheers.

A heavy weight settles on Shouyou’s chest, but it’s nothing he’s never felt before. There will always be more changes to try again. Instead, he walks over to Heitor with the biggest smile he can, and holds his hand to help him up. They shake hands with their opponents, congratulating each other on a good game. It had certainly been something to learn from.

They walk up to Nice and the others, and Shouyou looks up at the man, wondering how this is going to go. They hadn’t won, so does that mean Heitor’s plan has changed? Will he be trying again another time? Shouyou holds his breath, and watches.

“Nice,” Heitor says when they approach, and his girlfriend is smiling back at him, pride shining in her eyes. “I promise you, I’ll work even harder from now on. Then I—”

“Don’t you dare say that the next time you win again, you’ll ask me to marry you,” Nice says, an eyebrow raised. Heitor’s eyes go wide, clearly shocked, and his mouth opens and closes, as though he’s trying to find the right words to say.

But Nice doesn’t let him. Instead, she steps closer, and takes his hand in hers, her eyes shining as she looks up at him. “Win or lose, whether it was five years ago, today, or even ten years from now, you’re still you. And I think you’re amazing,” she says, smiling. “Will you marry me?”

Heitor’s jaw drops. His face turns red, cheeks impossibly flushed. Shouyou can’t believe it either, his own eyes widening with what he’d just heard.

“Yes!” Heitor says, still in shock, and Nice laughs, looking incredibly pleased with herself. Shouyou lets out a loud cheer, and he hears the people around them clapping too. His heart feels like bursting—he’s so happy for the two of them, and he can’t wait to see them get married.

( _Whether it was five years ago, today, or even ten years from now…_ Shouyou thinks the promise sounds a little familiar, something that has to do with his own heart and a place they promised to meet. But this isn’t about that right now, so he tucks it away, and decides not to think about it.)

Nice turns to him a little after, wearing a bright smile. “Ever since he partnered with you, Heitor’s seemed like he’s been having more fun than before,” she tells him, taking a step forward to where he is. She throws her arms around him to pull him in for a hug. “Thank you, Ninja Shouyou.”

Shouyou turns flustered, awkwardly being his arms up to hug her back. “Um, no—yes—I mean, thank you!” he stutters, feeling a warmth grow inside his chest. After Nice lets go, he turns back to the two of them properly, and it’s like he’s completely light on his toes.

“Me, too,” he says, beaming, and his heart swells with a million sunbursts, and he’s really, really happy. He’s glad that he came here, that he played all these games, and that he got to meet all these people. He doesn’t think he’d do it any differently. “I had lots and lots of fun playing with you!”

And isn’t it strange, Shouyou thinks to himself, just how well a defeat can fit right in with a victory?

Heitor and Nice’s wedding is absolutely beautiful.

The ceremony happens in the late evening, when the sun is slowly making its way back home on the horizon, turning everything into a lovely shade of pink and yellow. The weather is gentle, soft breezes against their hair and curling around their legs, and the sea is calm, glittering and kind, slow waves making their way back to the shore. Lights are strung all over, seashells hanging overhead and chiming whenever the wind blows their way, and colorful flowers decorate every corner and crevice. It’s gorgeous and enchanting, stealing Shouyou’s breath away each time he looks around.

Nice looks stunning as she walks down the aisle, her gown shining in the sunset, her hair pinned up to frame her face. Everyone watches in awe as she passes, but no one is more mesmerized than Heitor is, and Shouyou grins when he thinks he sees tears in the older man’s eyes. They take each other’s hands, looking the happiest they’ve ever been, unable to keep their eyes off each other as the ceremony officially begins.

In truth, Shouyou hasn’t been to a lot of weddings. The last time he’d been to one was back when he was a kid, big enough to vaguely understand what was going on, but still too young to remember most of it. There’s probably a lot of things he’s already forgotten, like what the decorations looked like, or where they took place, what kind of day it was. But if there’s anything that Shouyou does remember—except for how good chocolate fountains were—it’s the vows. The words that the spouses tell each other right before they say _I do,_ and the way they let their story unfold for everyone to hear, their own version of poetry said out loud for their hearts to connect in the simplest way that they can.

Back in high school, Shouyou had once told Kageyama that he thought the vows were the best part. He meant it, and he still does to this day. And Shouyou doesn’t really consider himself much of a romantic, to be honest, but there’s always something about them, that holds a little bit of magic, that proves that you can get there in the end. Kageyama had called it hope, _that to be in love was the most hope you could ever have,_ and that happy endings could exist if you held onto it. Shouyou likes to think that it’s true. That maybe it will be, for him one day. When it comes to love, hope is all that he has sometimes.

Heitor speaks, and he says all his words with so much love, so full of it, that Shouyou doesn’t even think that the ocean could compare to the tidal force of it. Heitor talks about their beginning, and how absolutely smitten he’d been with her from the start, and how he’d managed to woo her. How they’d fallen in love with the pace of the setting sun—not too quickly, but deeply enough that it carried them, and how there isn’t anyone else that he’d want to be with, in all the versions of the universe.

 _Love is something that takes strength,_ Heitor says. _That’s why loving isn’t something weak people do. To believe in it, to trust it even with your eyes closed, to hold onto it just for the sake of being—that all takes a whole lot of strength. And maybe it’s because when you finally find someone to love, when you finally grow into it, it feels like finding hope._

And there it is again: hope. Always coming back to him when he least expects it, gripping tightly against his arm and trying to turn him into a believer. But what it doesn’t know is that Shouyou’s always had so much of it. A great excess that sometimes he doesn’t know where to put it all, or how he can keep it inside of him without spilling it all out. He has a feeling that he’s found the right place for it, but he can’t stop himself from wondering if he’ll be allowed. If he’ll be able to call it by any other name but a promise.

Shouyou cheers as the two finally exchange rings, the golden bands glinting in the sunlight. They look so happy, wearing matching grins as they walk back down the aisle, arm and arm. The wedding reception isn’t that far at all—just a little ways down the beach, several tents are set up with an open space for dancing in the middle, with lights that illuminate the area like fireflies when the sun finally goes down. The tables are set with little centerpieces of origami flowers, and a long buffet table stands by the side, filled to the brim with different kinds of food. To Shouyou’s delight, he even spots a chocolate fountain when he walks in, and he immediately knows that he’ll be making more than one trip to it during the span of the night.

Shouyou spends the rest of the night clapping his hands so much that his palms turn red and start to sting like a spike, singing along to songs he just recently learns the words to until his voice is hoarse, and dancing with so many people that he smiles until his cheeks hurt and his name has been transferred onto different tongues. His feet are slightly sore by the end of it, and he’s sweating just a bit, stumbling back to his seat to catch his breath for just a moment.

He watches as the rest of the party continues on around him like a hurricane, people spinning around him as the wind carries the laughter up to the heavens, talking and chattering. Shouyou spots a couple of kids standing by the dessert table, trying to sneak in a few more brownies and cookies onto their plates. An easy smile rises to his lips when he remembers a time he’d been like them, small and unknowing. He spots a few more people that he’d played beach volleyball against—they’re probably friends of Heitor, and some of them wave at him back when they catch him looking, friendly eyes and kind smiles. Tonight is a whole whirlwind of people coming and going, and Shouyou is caught up right in the middle of it.

Shouyou grins as he watches Heitor and Nice take the center stage, dancing all around without a care in the world, their smiles so wide and their eyes only for each other. It’s like no one else is here but them, talking with lovelorn gazes as they step together in sync, moving like they were always meant to fall together this way. Fluid and smooth, practiced movements that look completely effortless, and their smiles are big enough to rival the crescent moon, the joy that they carry almost palpable as they go along. It’s mesmerizing and beautiful and lovely and—

Shouyou wants what they have.

Suddenly, his heart fills with a sudden ache, sharp and throbbing in his chest. The realization hits him like a ton of bricks—that he wants this, what he sees before him. He wants to be able to look at someone with so much love without having to hide it; he wants to be able to tell the world that he’s finally got it all right, and that this is what it’s all amounted to. He wants to be able to dance, just as people do when they’re in love, and he wants to show everyone that he reached that happy ending. That even if it was difficult, or even if it looked bleak, he made it, and there was nothing else in the world that could be better. He wants this _._

He wants it to be with _Kageyama_.

Because Kageyama Tobio is an affliction he will never grow out of, and Shouyou knows that he’s probably going to love him until his dying day. He wants this, like how he’s ever wanted anything else—to have Kageyama beside him, to listen to him as he tells Shouyou about his day, and to save a seat for him at every table. He wants it with a burning passion that threatens to swallow him whole at this very instance, and he’s never imagined anything else as grand as this one. In truth, he’s not even asking for marriage since it’s too bold of him and he’s still far too young—he won’t ask for much, really, not even a kiss if Kageyama doesn’t want it—he just wants to be able to be by Kageyama’s side all the time. To hang out for the rest of their lives, even when Kageyama gets mad and Shouyou thinks it’s funny, or when they bicker about who can slide the farthest down the hallway in their socks. It doesn’t matter all that much to him how it goes or where they’ll be or what happens to them—he just wants Kageyama to be there when it does.

Shouyou really, really hopes that Kageyama wants it too. He can’t change anything— _rewrite_ anything unless he doesn’t.

A little later, Heitor finds Shouyou on his way back to the buffet table, and they sit and talk to each other for a bit, commenting on the food and gossiping about some of his and Nice’s relatives (many of which are already drunk and laughing hysterically at air). Shouyou tells him how happy he is for him, that he and Nice have made it here, not at a finish line but at a whole new different starting point, ready to take on the world together.

“Do you…” Heitor says, a little uncertain as he narrows his eyes at Shouyou. “I never really asked before, but do you have someone like that back home?”

“No.” He shakes his head. “No one like that,” he answers, titling his gaze back to the sky. It must almost be midday back in Japan.

“Really?” Heitor asks, a little disbelievingly. “But you seem to get along with people so well, I thought… There’s really no one?”

He lets out a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Not like you and Nice, no.”

Heitor makes a thoughtful sound, and he chuckles lightly. “Like me and Nice, huh?” he says, a glint in his eyes. “You know, with Nice, I never saw her coming. When we met, it was like I was standing where lightning strikes, and just looking at her for the first time, it was like I suddenly knew it was going to be her. That she was gonna be my once in a lifetime. She made me a better person, and it was like I was just waiting around ‘til I met her, you know?”

 _Lightning,_ Shouyou thinks. _Lifetime, better, waiting—_ and then, inexplicably, _Kageyama._

“There…there is, I think. There is someone,” Shouyou stutters, his cheeks flushing. “But I don’t know if…I don’t know if it’s like _that_ , though.”

Heitor hums, resting an arm on the table. “Well, do you want it to be?”

He blinks. He remembers watching the newlyweds dance, and remembers what he’d thought. _Yes,_ he thinks. _It’s always been yes._ “What would it mean if I did?”

“Then you should be honest,” Heitor says after a moment of consideration. The lights reflect back on his eyes, like stars caught in a midway fall. “You should say what you feel. It’s always easier that way.”

“But what if they don’t like what I say?” Shouyou blurts out before he can stop himself. “What if—what if I say something and it all goes wrong?”

Heitor looks at him, a serious expression on his face. “Shouyou,” he says. “There will never be anything wrong about love. Not if you’re true about it.”

Shouyou doesn’t say anything. He’s not even sure he could find the words for what he’s feeling, a swirling mix of emotions that don’t settle quite well within him, shifting and changing. Shouyou doesn’t think he’s ever been truer about anything than the way his heart beats for Kageyama.

“If it’s alright for me to ask,” Heitor adds, his tone kind and soft. “What’s holding you back?”

Shouyou opens his mouth to say _volleyball._ But it suddenly hits him—that’s not really true anymore, is it? He and Kageyama aren’t on the same team anymore, so he doesn’t need to worry about it affecting their partnership. He’s already well on his way to fulfilling his promise, so once he finally beats Kageyama, there won’t be anything left for anyone to object to about his own skills. There won’t be anything left for him to lose, except—

“Our friendship,” Shouyou says quickly, tripping over his own words. “If I say it, and it ruins what we have, I don’t know what I’d do.” He slumps forward. “But I want to tell him. I want to change this, and maybe make it better, but I don’t know how I’m supposed to do that without breaking it.”

“How do you know that it’s going to break?” Heitor asks. “If you know for sure that what you have is something strong, or even invincible _,_ then I think it should be worth the chance.” He takes a deep breath, and looks directly at Shouyou. “What you two could have together—don’t you think it would be worth it?”

 _Invincible._ A synonym for promise.

“You know, before Nice and I started dating,” Heitor says. “I was afraid to tell her because I thought that I’d lose her. But then one day, I looked over at her, and I just knew. She changed my life, and I knew that I wouldn’t want to be with anyone else. And of course it was scary—no one can tell how it’s going to go, or if it’s going to last. There’s always a risk.”

Shouyou inhales sharply. His fingers clench, unknowing of what’s going to be said next. He’d always been afraid of that, of knowing that they wouldn’t make it to the end. And despite the music and the laughter, Shouyou can hear each word Heitor says clearly.

“But,” Heitor continues, his voice lower, softer. “If you find someone that’s worth it, someone who’s worth that chance, no matter how small, you try it anyway. You stick around.” Heitor gives him a gentle smile. “Until it isn’t scary anymore.”

He lets Heitor’s words sink in, his tummy swirling a mix of feelings he knows he’ll have to sort through later, when he’s lying on his bed in the dead of the night. He tries to imagine what Heitor’s saying—a time when it isn’t terrifying to be with someone, or to ask them to stay because you’re sure that they will. Kageyama’s never given Shouyou a reason to think that he’d ever leave— _I’ll still be there,_ he had said, and Shouyou’s never known him to break a promise either. Could that mean something? Is it something worth figuring out? Or will Shouyou finally hit the ground with nothing to break his fall?

“You need to be honest about what you feel,” Heitor says, his voice low and incredibly kind. “Love is—it’s fragile. It’s special. So when you find it, you have to take care of it. And before you know it, it will have taken care of you in return. So take care of love.”

Shouyou nods dumbly, still trying to process it all. There’s a lot to unpack here, right now, and he’s still trying to make sense of it. Something is tugging at his heartstrings, trying to tell him what the next step should be—but doubt still lingers in the crevice of his mind, pulling him away. He wants to get closer, and it’s slipping through his fingers, but Shouyou’s looking for a revelation. He wants to be brave despite the fear. He wants to understand what it means to have this and not be afraid of the drop. He wants to be with Kageyama.

 _Be honest_. Shouyou’s always tried to be honest, but this is vulnerability bleeding a heart open, and he’s not sure what to do with all the pieces it could leave behind. How does he rewrite this story now? What are the words that he’s supposed to say?

Heitor claps a hand on his shoulder, a light smile on his lips. “You know what? This was probably all too much for you, sorry about that,” he says, scratching his cheek, apologetic. “What about we go grab some drinks instead? Relax for a little bit. How’s that sound?”

Shouyou nods, still a little numb. He should probably go back to the chocolate fountain too while he’s at it. Maybe it’ll have the answer he needs.

Tobio had just finished making lunch when his phone beeps on the counter, a familiar ringtone that he hasn’t heard in a while. The sound of it surprises him, echoing and bouncing off the walls, and Tobio blinks as he picks it up, finding it a little strange. Shouldn’t it be close to midnight over there? What’s he doing up so late?

Quickly, he dries his hands on a towel, and leaves his meal on the table before picking up his phone, staring at it in confusion. He swipes right to answer, pressing it to his ear to listen. There’s a moment before the line clicks, then it’s suddenly filled with loud, upbeat music and the sound of cheering and laughter. He hears a cough, and then a laugh so familiar that it makes his chest construct and loosen at the same time.

“Hello?” Tobio calls out, uncertain. “Hinata?”

There’s still no response from Hinata’s end, and Tobio leans against the counter, drumming his fingers along the table. Maybe it was a mistake, or an accident, and this isn’t supposed to be happening. It’s clear that Hinata is at a party, so why would he be calling Tobio?

“Oi, if you aren’t gonna say anything, I’m gonna hang up—”

“…huh?” the sound of Hinata’s voice finally comes through. “What are you…? Who is this?” he asks, his words slightly slurred together, and Tobio struggles to make sense of it.

Tobio raises an eyebrow. “Hinata,” he tries to say as clearly as possible. “Are you drunk?”

“Who, me?” Hinata says, his words slippery and light. “No, no, I’m completely fine…mhm, yeah, just fine. Just a little—little tipsy.”

Tobio snorts, not impressed at all. “Where are you? Isn’t it late over there?”

“I’m…I’m at a wedding! It’s really beautiful, and there’s lots—there’s lots of people and food and the music is really loud!” Hinata says, and he giggles uncontrollably at the end of his sentence, nearly incoherent. “Weddings are nice. They’re fun. There’s even…there’s even a chocolate fountain! You should…you should come here!”

There isn’t a single part of him that isn’t sure anymore—Hinata is completely and utterly _drunk._ He’s at a party, and he’d gotten himself a few too many drinks, and now he’s calling Tobio without realizing it and forgetting that he’s not even in the same _country_. It makes him want to roll his eyes in annoyance, but quite admittedly, Tobio’s grown soft over the years, and the fondness seeps right in through the cracks, sighing exasperatedly. Hinata really is a dumbass sometimes.

Tobio doesn’t know how—he’s never had to deal with a buzzed Hinata before, so he’s not sure if he’s supposed to proceed with caution or not. When Miwa gets drunk, she gets really touchy, but he’s not really sure how Hinata goes. From what he’s heard so far, maybe he’s just even louder than usual?

Hinata hiccups. “I could probably…probably sneak you in. Or Heitor’s—he’s really nice and friendly, so he might be okay with you. Or maybe instead…” His voice falls into a soft mumble that Tobio can’t understand. Tobio doesn’t even know who _Heitor_ is, but if he’s the groom, he doubts that the guy would appreciate Tobio crashing his wedding—that is, if Tobio was even in the _same area._

“I can’t go there,” Tobio tells Hinata, plain and simple. “I’m in another country.”

“Oh,” Hinata says, and Tobio can imagine his face falling, and he winces. He doesn’t want to make Hinata _sad_. Fortunately, his slump doesn’t last long, and he’s perking up in the next instant. “Well! That’s okay! I can just tell you all about it!”

“Sure,” Tobio says, if only just to humor him. He glances over at his lunch, probably already cooling down, but decides that it can wait a couple more minutes. Hinata doesn’t call very often, much less _drunk,_ and Tobio has a feeling this will be very entertaining.

“Hm, well, the vows were really pretty, you know? Lots of…lots of, uh—they were really sweet,” Hinata says. “I always thought vows were the best part, right, ‘cause they’re like that. Always so hopeful. Isn’t that just nice?”

Tobio hums in acknowledgement. He recalls talking to Hinata about that once. He wonders if Hinata remembers that too.

“Oh! That reminds me!” Hinata exclaims, loud enough into the speaker that Tobio has to hold his phone a little farther from his ear. “You know who I really wish was here right now?” Hinata doesn’t wait for a response. “My best friend! His name is Kage—Kageya—Yamayama! I really wish he was here right now!”

Tobio nearly drops his phone in surprise. He hadn’t expected to hear that—it startles him so much that he doesn’t even try correcting Hinata that _Yamayama_ is definitely not his name. He feels his cheeks warm, and his curiosity grows.

“You…do?” he asks, careful. His grip on the phone tightens.

“Yeah, duh!” Hinata answers brightly. “I think he’d…he’d like it here,” he continues, stringing his words along messily that Tobio tries to pick up the pieces he’s leaving behind. He tries to imagine how Hinata must look now, with his cheeks flushed and eyes bright, smile toothy and lopsided. “He doesn’t…he doesn’t really do that good with crowds ‘cause he gets nervous and can be kinda awkward sometimes, but I’m here, so he wouldn’t be lonely, you know? I’d make sure that he wasn’t, so he’d be—everything would be okay.”

Tobio doesn’t even know what to say. His heart beats butterfly-quick in his chest. _Hinata wants him there._

“I just… I know it’s spo—spontan—I know it’s sudden, but I…” Hinata says, and suddenly like all the giddiness from earlier has disappeared. He sounds a little miserable, his voice so small and quiet that Tobio strains to hear him over the loud music. “I just want to see him again.”

Tobio makes a strangled noise at the back of his throat as his heart drums loudly in his ears. “I‘m sure…” he starts to say, scrambling for what words to use. He settles on something simple. “I’m sure he wants to see you too.”

“Really?” Hinata seems to brighten up immediately, and the sudden change in tone gives Tobio whiplash, making him blink. Hinata sounds _hopeful_ , of all things, and Tobio’s throat runs dry. “You really think so?”

He coughs. “Of course he does, dumbass,” Tobio says, strained. If Hinata knew just how much Tobio did, it would overwhelm them both; if Hinata could feel the way he did whenever he thought of Hinata, how the longing and loneliness threatened to consume him at times, he wouldn’t know what to do with it.

“That’s really, really good then!” Hinata chirps, and laughter bubbles out of him with ease. There’s a little bit of static, and Tobio can hear Hinata talking to someone, his words slightly muffled. There’s more rustling, and the sounds of music and people fade a bit, growing softer, like Hinata’s stepped outside.

Tobio catches the rhythm of waves crashing on the shore, and Hinata seems to be walking as he hums a tune under his breath—one that Tobio doesn’t recognize. For a moment, he wonders why Hinata had called him in the first place, right now and as drunk as he is. Is it even safe for him to be wandering around alone?

“Hey,” Hinata says suddenly, breaking the stillness. “What do the clouds look like over there?”

Tobio blinks. “Uh, wait,” he says, pushing himself off of the counter. His apartment is nice enough that there’s a small balcony on the other end, and he opens the door with one hand, stepping out into the winter air. It’s not too cold right now, with the sun shining down to provide enough warmth. He looks up at the sky, flat blue and white, and makes images of them, a practiced habit. “There’s one that looks like a banana. And another one that looks like a mouse. I think. It could be something else.”

Hinata hums again, his voice light and airy. “You can’t really see the clouds here, y’know? ‘Cause it’s…it’s night time, so the sky’s all dark and black,” he says with a small hiccup. “I used to have this thing with Kage—Kageyama, where we’d say all kinds of cloud shapes. He always said the ones I mentioned were too weird, but I thought they were funny.”

“That’s because they were, dumbass,” Tobio says, unable to stop himself. He misses being able to do that with Hinata. It was one his favorite pastimes. Maybe they could do it again when he gets back.

Hinata laughs, a soft and warm sound that has Tobio smiling back anyway. “It’s funny,” Hinata muses. “You sound a lot like him.”

His mouth goes dry. He should probably tell Hinata. It’s not fair to him, and he doesn’t want to accidentally hear anything that Hinata isn’t willing to tell him. But just as he’s about to open his mouth to speak, he hears Hinata sigh on the other end, a little wistful over the sound of the sea.

“Do you think it’s weird?” he says, sounding a little unsure. Hesitant, even.

“What’s weird?” Tobio asks. Maybe it’ll be fine, he reasons. And besides, Hinata’s embarrassed himself in front of Tobio plenty of times that he’s practically already immune to it. Sometimes, he’s not even sure if Hinata is _capable_ of feeling embarrassed.

“That I think the sky looks like his eyes,” Hinata says back, his voice incredibly soft, gentle enough that it seems like it could be carried away by the wind.

Tobio feels his cheeks grow hot. “His eyes?”

“Yeah,” Hinata says, and then he’s laughing lightly again. It might be because he’s nervous or maybe because he’s drunk, Tobio isn’t sure. Maybe it’s both. “I used to… Back in our first-year, there was this—it was raining, and I looked at the sky. And then he was there with me, like he always is, you know? And then…and then I looked at his eyes, and it looked… I think it looked exactly like the sky.” Hinata lets out a shaky breath. “Maybe that’s—that’s why I like looking at the sky so much, sometimes. Because it reminds me of him. His eyes always were so beautiful. They still are, even if I haven’t seen them in so long. It’s just the kind of thing that never…the kind of thing that never changes.”

Tobio swallows thickly. Back then, he’d always caught Hinata staring out the window and looking up at the sky. He’d always thought that he was daydreaming or just zoning out, but for Hinata to say that now… Does that mean he was thinking about Tobio back then? He thought Tobio’s eyes were _nice?_

“You dumbass—do you know what you’re saying?” he sputters, and he clenches his fists tightly. “Do you—”

“Maybe,” Hinata says, and Tobio can imagine him shrugging, in that simple, earnest way of his. “That’s just what I’ve always thought. That it looked like he kept whole galaxies inside them.”

 _You’re wrong,_ Tobio wants to say. _You’re wrong, because the universe is with you, not me._ Tobio’s sure he could find all mysteries of the universe in Hinata’s hands.

“But you gotta keep quiet about it, okay? _Shhhhh_. You can’t tell him I said that,” Hinata adds quickly, sounding embarrassed. “He’d _kill_ me.”

Tobio doesn’t know what to say, so he just makes a sound of acknowledgement in the back of his throat. What is he supposed to do with information? Did Hinata really think that this whole time?

“Earlier…” Hinata starts to speak again, but his words seem far away, like he’s lost in thought. “Earlier, Heitor—he told me to be honest about what I feel. And I keep—I keep thinking about it, but it’s…it’s hard. I want to be, but it’s just… I’ve kept it inside me for so long that I don’t…I don’t know if I could finally let it out. I don’t know what else to do but hold it inside of me.”

Tobio has no idea what Hinata’s talking about. But it sounds important to him, whatever it is exactly, and despite his confusion, it’s because of that Tobio tries to be gentle as possible.

“Then you can learn how to,” Tobio says, not really sure if his advice will make sense without the context. “There’s always more to know. You…you should try it. Nothing will change if you don’t do anything.”

Hinata sighs, long and sad. “I’m just a little tired of waiting, you know?” His voice is so small and defeated, his tone wearing exhaustion like he’s been holding something heavy on his tongue for years. Maybe he has. “Hey,” Hinata says after a moment, a little hesitant. “Can I…can I ask you something?”

“Okay,” Tobio says quietly.

“Have you…” Hinata begins, words delicate. “Have you ever been in love?”

Tobio stills. His throat feels like it’s closed up, and all he can hear is his own pulse, his heart threatening to escape out of his body as his lungs grapple for oxygen. Does Hinata…? Tobio feels his body grow cold at the thought of it—like the ground’s been pulled right from under him, swept into the ocean and being pulled lower and lower as the bubbles leave his breath. He can’t break the surface.

Is Hinata in love with someone? Why is he asking something like this? Could it be his roommate?

“Hello?” Hinata calls out. “Are you still there?”

“Uh—yeah. Yeah, I am,” Tobio struggles to say. He tries to steady his breathing. Tries to keep himself afloat. The sea level is rising again, and it’s been a while since Tobio’s had to worry about it. He’s a little out of practice.

“Have you?”

Tobio coughs, clearing his throat. “Yeah,” he says, feeling his chest constricts. It’s like telling the boy he loves that he loves him, but it’s never been so out of reach. “Yeah, I—I have.”

Hinata hums, thoughtful. “How long?”

Tobio sputters. “Wh—what?”

“How long have you been in love?”

Tobio’s heart seizes with something great and steals the breath from him. He tries to think of what to say without letting everything unfold, tries to place the last card on top of the house without letting it fall away into the wind. How does he put something like this into words without drowning?

“I don’t remember,” Tobio says—but he does. Of course he does. How could he not, when it’s been branded into his mind? And he knows that love is not a thing that can be measured in numbers, but instead in memories and moments, and he knows that his life has been full of it ever since that one summer day. He doesn’t know the exact second it happened, and maybe there never was one—instead it had been little things that formed into a great wave, only hitting him when on a day when he’d been exhausted and presented with a milk box by a boy who looked like sunshine. Of course Tobio remembers, but so much has already happened since then, and he’s waited so long that to say it out loud feels like it would be too much. _I don’t remember,_ he says, even when it’s a lie, because the truth would overwhelm him, and this is what it is:

Kageyama Tobio has been in love longer than the ocean has existed.

He’s been in love before he learned how to swim, before he got swept up in all of this. He’s waited for Hinata Shouyou his whole life, and has been in love with him before he even met him. Before anything else, he was not a boy born sad, but a boy born with love. He knows that now, and he knows how to love, because he’d met Hinata.

It’s just a matter of finally saying it.

 _Just think about it,_ Miwa had told him, and Tobio _has_ —he’s spent every night since then thinking of the different ways he could say it, but this has never been one of them. Tobio desperately wishes Hinata were sober. That way, he might finally have the courage to tell him the truth. He already decided that he would, but not like this. Never like this.

“Oh,” Hinata says after several heartbeats have passed, quiet, and all Tobio can hear is his soft breathing, the sound of the sea that separates them. “Do you know—how did it end? Was it happy?”

Tobio takes a deep breath. He looks up at his own sky, at the bright blue heavens that’s still the same one Hinata is standing under right now. He’s somewhere in the world, standing under the stars with his phone held to his ear, the call connecting the distance between them.

Sometimes, when Tobio will stare out into the world before him, he’ll imagine a string tying him to Hinata, bright and golden, a thread that bridges all the cities between them. Long and far, traveling across the ocean to get to a beautiful boy in Rio.

“I don’t know,” Tobio answers honestly. “I’m still trying to see how it’ll go.”

“So it’s not over yet?”

“No,” he says. “Not yet.”

“Do you want it to be?”

A beat, then— “No.” Tobio sucks in a deep breath. “I’ve never wanted it to. I still don’t.”

“Are you…” Hinata says, and Tobio wonders why this matters so much to him. Is it true then? Is Hinata in love with someone? Is there finally someone who’s managed to catch his attention—the one thing Tobio’s always been trying to do? “Does that mean that you’re gonna—are you going to do something about it?”

“I want to,” Tobio says, because he’s already mind up about it. He’ll find a way, when Hinata gets back. He’ll figure out the timing and the setting, and he’ll tell Hinata the truth, no matter what the outcome is. He’s kept inside for so long that he wants to finally be able to find the right place to put it. “I’m going to.”

“Do you think…do you think I should?” Hinata asks, exhaling a shaky breath. Tobio feels his heart stutter at that. If Hinata is referring to what Tobio’s thinking, if he’s right about Tobio’s intentions, then doesn’t that mean—

Tobio can’t be selfish. He can’t do that. Not to Hinata.

“Only if you want to,” he says, trying to steady himself on the railing. “Do you?”

“I don’t know,” Hinata says back. “I think I do.”

“Then I think…I think your friend was right,” Tobio tells him, taking deep breaths. He tries to steady himself on the railing. “You should just be honest, however that means for you.”

There’s another pause before Hinata releases another breath, unstable around the edges. “Okay,” he says softly, like he’s trying to make up his mind. “Okay. I’ll…I’ll try. I’ll have to think about it more, but…”

“Try thinking about it when you’re more sober, yeah?” Tobio suggests, pressing his lips into a thin smile. In all honesty, he’s not sure what he’s just done. Has he doomed his own confession? If Hinata really is in love with someone else…

Then Tobio won’t do anything but accept it. If it’s what makes Hinata happy, then Tobio will take it.

Hinata laughs, shaking off the nerves and the uncertainty, and despite the gravity in his chest, Tobio feels the tension slightly loosen from his shoulders. Even before they even knew each other that well, Hinata’s always had a strange way of making Tobio feel better.

“I should…I should probably go back. They might be looking for me,” Hinata says after a moment, a little apologetic. “But, um, thank you. For this. I don’t… You didn’t need to answer all of that.”

“It’s fine,” Tobio says quickly, feeling his cheeks heat up. “Just don’t—don’t die on the way home. Or something.”

He breathes out another laugh, and there’s the ocean again, surrounding Tobio until it’s all that he can feel. “Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Hinata says dismissively. “Okay, good night!”

“Yeah,” Tobio says, and somehow it always feels like this, whenever Hinata calls, like he’s trying to memorize the way his voice sounds before it disappears. “Good night.”

Hinata hangs up, cutting off the sound of the sea and wind, the muffled laughter and music. Tobio is left with the rumble of a busy city before him, the streets and corners filled with cars and people on the move, blinking street lights where the sun shines down, bright and crisp, golden flares on a great big city. It seems all so different from where he imagines Hinata is, laughing by the seaside, and Tobio exhales a long sigh.

With one last look at the city, Tobio turns around and heads back inside to where it’s much warmer, his footsteps padding across the floor, a soft sound in all of the silence. It’s a little lonely, Tobio will admit, and he wishes that there was someone else with him that could help fill up all the empty spaces. He likes to think that maybe one day, a summer rain will pass over him like a dream, and orange light will flood into his home. If a time like that comes, if he’s ever so lucky, Tobio will welcome it with open arms.

But first, he has a meal to eat.

> From: Hinata
> 
> _hey did i accidentally call you last night??????_
> 
> To: Hinata
> 
> _Yeah_
> 
> From: Hinata
> 
> _i didnt say anything embarrassing did i??_
> 
> To: Hinata
> 
> _No comment_
> 
> From: Hinata
> 
> _KAGEYAMA_
> 
> From: Hinata
> 
> _YAMAYAMAAAAA_
> 
> From: Hinata
> 
> _KAGEYAMAAAAAAAAAAAAAA_
> 
> From: Hinata
> 
> _TOBIO_
> 
> To: Hinata
> 
> _Shut up_
> 
> To: Hinata
> 
> _It wasn’t anything big_
> 
> To: Hinata
> 
> _You were just being ur usual dumbass self_
> 
> From: Hinata
> 
> _promise??? i didn’t say anything weird?_
> 
> To: Hinata
> 
> _Yeah_
> 
> From: Hinata
> 
> _phew_
> 
> From: Hinata
> 
> _anyway are u free for a call tomorrow??_
> 
> To: Hinata
> 
> _Sure_

_What do you think it would be like to fall from the sky?_

Shouyou considers the question one more time as he stares right up at the sky, a hazy mix of gold and rose, the line blurring at the horizon where they melt into one great expanse. He’s imagined it many times before this one—what it would be like to float in the middle of the great expanse of blue and white, to see the whole world down below you, small enough as though you could cup into your hands. He wonders what it would be like to actually fly, to soar with the wind on your back and the clouds under your fingertips, to reach for the sun like it’s always been impossibly close. If it would burn him, just like the stories say.

He also thinks about what it would be like to fall.

To feel the drop in his stomach before his mind catches up to what’s happening, hurtling down towards the earth at terminal velocity, the pull of gravity so strong that nothing is able to stop it. Like an anchor being dropped from a ship in the sky, falling and falling and falling until the sky grows bigger and the ground gets closer. Shouyou wonders if he would look like a lightning strike, hitting the ground so abruptly that no one even notices him coming, never to happen twice—or if he’d look more like a meteor, orange and red and a wish for some people who are watching as he goes. What would it feel like to feel so weightless, so light, if only just for a moment? To walk on a tightrope of clouds, and to see what lies on the other end of it. What would it be like to not be afraid of the drop?

Shouyou’s fallen several times before, but he’s always picked himself back up each and every time. It’s a lesson he’d learned the hard way, and he’s managed to overcome each bitter sting each time, gritting his teeth and smiling hard enough that it becomes real. He’s learned a lot of things.

But it’s a different kind of falling he’s thinking about this time around. It’s the kind of falling where he doesn’t know where to put his feet when he tries to get up, or if the ground will even be stable beneath him. It’s the kind of falling that happens slowly, without expecting it one bit, before it rushes to you all at once, filling you up until you can’t see where the sky ends and the ocean begins. Until the lines have become so blurry that it’s useless trying to walk in a straight path, and all you can do is close your eyes, hope for the best, and pray that the next step will be kind to you.

Shouyou’s still trying to figure it out.

It starts, as it ends, with Kageyama Tobio.

Kageyama, who Shouyou has been in love with for years now, and is trying to figure out how to tell him the truth of it. He would if he could. Sometimes, Shouyou thinks about how if there was one thing he could redo in his whole life, it would probably be about telling Kageyama from the very beginning, if only just to see where it goes. Where would they be now, if he was brave enough to say it the moment he realized it? He tries to picture it—back on that winter night when they’d stopped at the foot of the hill, when Kageyama had looked at him in the soft moonlight and smiled. If Shouyou hadn’t left immediately after, if he’d taken Kageyama’s hands in his own again, and told him, with his heart on his sleeve, _I think I’m falling in love with you,_ and breathed out the revelation like it was a fundamental truth instead of a childish dream. He wonders what Kageyama would have looked like, what he would have thought and said, if Shouyou was not afraid, if he wasn’t careless about letting his heart wander off on its own, if he had worked up the courage to say it.

If he’d been honest from the very beginning.

Would Kageyama have learned to love Shouyou back? Or would it have ruined everything they had?

Shouyou knows there’s no point in wondering about it, not when it’s not like he can do anything about it, but it helps him feel better when the panic threatens to overwhelm him. He’s not sure what his next step should be. He’s stayed this way for so long that he’s stuck on the idea of loving from a distance, and he’s too scared to pick up a pen and begin rewriting. But he knows he should, and he _wants_ to, more than anything, but figuring out how to make it better is harder than putting down the words the first time around, and Shouyou’s never been much for writing in the first place. He’s never had an easy time finding the right words on the spot—instead, he rambles on and on and tries out different words, just hoping that he’ll stumble upon perfection and it’ll fit right where he wants it to be. It’s never been harder than it is now.

 _You should be honest_ , he can hear Heitor saying to him again. _Be honest about what you feel._

This is what he feels:

It’s that this love, the one that he’s been harboring inside him for so long, will burst at the sight of Kageyama Tobio. It’s that once that opportunity presents itself, it will spill everything onto the floor without holding a single thing back. And it is scary, so absolutely terrifying, for him to lay bare all of his secrets for Kageyama to see. It’s not that he’s afraid Kageyama will turn away from him; it’s that he’s afraid Kageyama will become so overwhelmed with everything that he will do his best to let Shouyou down gently—but the problem is that boys of the summer like him have never been the type to go down quietly. With Kageyama, Shouyou’s always thought that he would be invincible, that he never had a single thing to fear, his heartbeat on the highrise, but it’s also been a long time since he needed Kageyama by his side to be strong, and he tries to convince himself this is just another thing he has yet to conquer.

But matters of the heart and matters of volleyball are different, aren’t they? Isn’t that why he’s kept them separate for so long? Because he’d thought that he couldn’t have volleyball and love, and he couldn’t have Kageyama from both without messing everything up. He’d thought that it was best to stick to one and hold the other behind his back, to love and die in secret for it instead, but look where it’s gotten him. It’s brought him a heart that doesn’t know when to quit and a will that’s mightier than any other resolve. Isn’t a part of him just a little bit _right_ about what he’s done? Didn’t he make the right choice for keeping them separate?

Does the right choice equivocate to the happiest one?

Is Shouyou—is he happy like this? Does he really think he can go on like this forever, staring at the sky and just wishing? No, Shouyou’s always been greedy, he’s always been selfish—he wants more. He’s always wanted more. This isn’t—while it may have been the right choice at the time, that doesn’t mean it’s the right one at the present. The times have changed, and so has he, so has Kageyama, and things will be different when he comes home, won’t they? He’s not the only one who’ll be different.

The facts have changed about where they stand—no longer high school boys fighting for the national title, with cracked voices and bodies they haven’t quite grown into, no longer the same, young, and foolish kids they’d been back then—so that means that the choices presented in front of him have changed too. The truth—and this is something that he must finally, _finally_ admit to himself—is that he _can_ choose to do it if he wants to. What else is there stopping him?

Shouyou thinks of Kageyama, and how their friendship has still remained strong and steady despite the time and distance that threatened to weather away at it. He thinks of their late night calls and their texts, and how they’ve always been there for each other from the start. He thinks of decoys and kings and finally accepting your role. He thinks of summer days and bike rides and warm laughter. He thinks of cotton candy clouds and late-night practices and the sight of the sun breaking through the clouds after a long storm.

He thinks of the two of them, and he knows that in the end, what they have is unbreakable, easily assured, and something like this couldn’t ever dare to break it. Their friendship isn’t a stepping stone as much as it is the foundation to everything—there is nothing he has to fear when it comes to the bond that they carry in their hearts. It isn’t an obstacle or an excuse to hide behind. It’s something that will remain, even until the end of their lifetimes. It’s not something for him to lose.

So then—what else is left? What else is there that Hinata Shouyou could possibly lose? What’s stopping him from telling Kageyama Tobio that he loves him?

Back then, it had always been about volleyball. It had been the main reason why he told himself that he couldn’t say anything, or do anything to put their partnership at risk. But their volleyball, just like everything else, has also changed. Shouyou knows that better than anyone else. He’s going to finally catch up to Kageyama, fulfill his promise, show him all that he is—and then what? Their lives have always been centered around the sport that nothing they ever do will be too far related to it, but what happens after that? There will always be volleyball, but will there finally be time for love? Will he have to separate the two things? Will he have to keep them apart again? Will it be just like back then, when everything was and is volleyball—

Suddenly, the realization comes to him sharply, making his heart seize up endurably as it hits him like a ton of bricks. The pieces finally click into place, and Shouyou understands now, what it means, and what it’s always meant. _Oh,_ he thinks. _That’s it._

And it feels like he’s sixteen again, with Takeda before him, telling him that _this is still volleyball._ Because like back then, even if he was on or off the court, no matter where he was, it was still volleyball. It’s always been volleyball.

And just like that, _this_ —this is still a love story. Even far away, even if it’s been years, it is still a love story. It is love in any way that you look at it. It is two boys and their love for volleyball, and two boys and their love for each other. No matter the distance, no matter how great the ocean that separates them, it’s still there.

Shouyou’s heart line still connects, over mountains and rivers and valleys, back to a sky-eyed boy in Tokyo. Just like it had been back then, a high school boy hopelessly smitten, living for the hope of it all, to the way it is now, still trying to get it right. This is still a love story.

It always has been.

Shouyou’s never needed to separate the two things when they’ve really been connected all along, side by side and hand in hand. There’s never been a moment when they were apart, and Shouyou understands that now. Volleyball and Kageyama—there was never going to be any use in trying to keep them apart, in trying to categorize the two things, because they were always going to be parts of Shouyou’s heart. They were always going to get entangled and messy with no hope of distinguishing one from the other. And love, above all things, cannot be measured simply. It’s fragile and it’s complicated and it’s _special_. That’s why you take care of it. That’s why you stick around.

That’s why it stops being scary.

And it feels like a culmination of everything, of _rewrite it_ and _be honest_ and _say what you feel_ , and Shouyou realizes that the story—it never really ended. Not once, not even for a moment. This whole time he’s still been writing pages, and Shouyou will be damned if he doesn’t see this whole thing through.

So he’ll rewrite it, like Oikawa said. He’ll rewrite this whole story and this whole life, and this time it’ll be different. This time, there’ll be so much love, Kageyama won’t be able to see beyond it.

He’ll make sure of it.

> From: Hinata
> 
> _I’m coming home_

On the day that Hinata Shouyou leaves Brazil, the sun is shining.

It’s the perfect day for a proper send-off, with clear skies and high visibility. The sun streams through the square glass windows of the airport, bouncing off the ceramic tiles and into his skin, and Shouyou takes a deep breath as he stops to take it all in. His suitcase stands next to him, all his belongings tucked inside safely, his backpack on his shoulders, his legs steady on the ground underneath his feet. He’s done all that he can, and his time is finally up.

With a bright grin, Shouyou looks around at all the people here who have come to see him off, their eyes shining with pride and a little glassy with tears. Lucio asks Shouyou if he thinks he’d been able to conquer the sand in his two years here, and Shouyou laughs and tells him that he definitely didn’t. Pedro hugs him tightly and openly cries, sobbing loudly and promising to watch his matches. He also reminds Shouyou about getting Kodzuken’s autograph for him, looking exceedingly grateful. Heitor and Nice embrace him too, clapping him on the back and wishing him the best of luck. Shouyou looks at all of them—at the people he hasn’t known for all that long but who he cares about greatly anyway. If it weren’t for all these people to keep him company, to support him and cheer him on, Shouyou doesn’t know what would’ve happened to him. He probably wouldn’t have made it this far.

Goodbyes are always such a bittersweet thing, Shouyou thinks. They’re the end of something but the beginning of another, and he keeps each and every word tucked into a shelf in his ribcage, holding onto them like strings tied around his fingers. These last two years—in the end, Shouyou knows that he wouldn’t trade his time in Brazil for anything else in the world. He’s happy he chose to come here, and that he saw it through—he’s thankful for the sand and the volleyball skills he’s learned, and he’s just as thankful for the people he’s met and befriended. He feels like a much better person all around, patient and strong and steady. He knows to take things slow now, to let the days unfold before him and take them one at a time, to find the stillness and revel in it. Each second that he is breathing is not a waste, and there’s always something to learn from each moment. But even if he’s leaving, that doesn’t mean that it’s all coming to an end. It’s not over yet.

Hinata Shouyou will come back to Brazil, and he will play on the highest stage that they have. It’s a promise. Without even realizing it, this place has become a little bit of home to him too.

With one last deep breath, Shouyou waves to all his friends, beaming at them, and then turns around to leave. Each step he takes is lighter than the last, one foot in front of the other, and here he goes. There must be something about airports, he thinks, that make leaving seem impossible and easy at the same time, and Shouyou ignores the mystery within the walls and keeps his head clear, knowing exactly what it is he wants to be walking to. He knows his destination, and he’s going to get there.

He’s coming back home.

Back to the open fields and roaring hills, to the golden grass and dirt paths. Back to the cracked pavements, the chirping cicadas, the cool night air breeze. Back to the roads as familiar as his own heartbeat, the streets mapped on his palms. Back to the dandelions in the spring and the wildflowers that grow by his house. Back to the glow-in-the-dark stars he’d hung on his bedroom ceiling and back to the sound of Natsu’s laughter echoing around the house. Back to his small town roots, to the place that had raised a golden boy like him, where all his friends and family are, where he’d learned to let the seasons go and come back, where he’d made the decision to fly.

Even if he’s not the same boy who left it, it’s still home.

The flight is long and tiring, and Shouyou remembers how awful it had been the first time, sitting in the same place for twenty-one hours straight. But there must be a god of some sort that’s smiling down on him this time, though, because luck gives him a seat next to the window and the person who’s supposed to be sitting next to him doesn’t show up, which gives him an extra free seat all to himself and he can move around more. The downside is that no matter where he is, Shouyou’s always had excess energy in his bones, just waiting to be used up. It’s still fairly early in Rio time, so he’s not tired one bit, and he can’t use sleeping as a way to pass the time.

To make up for it, he tries to keep himself occupied by watching movies—he reminds himself to recommend one of them to Yamaguchi when he gets back, since it seems like the type he’d like, and Shouyou stammers out apologies when the other passengers shoot him dirty looks for laughing too loudly. He also goes over the magazines that they’d left out for him to go through, scanning the prices of things he’ll never be able to afford. He plays games on his phone and listens to music, and _tries_ to close his eyes and get some rest, but it doesn’t really work, and he’s left trying to think of something else to do.

A little later, Shouyou opens the window to look out to the world, letting the sunlight stream in and fall onto his lap. It’s only his second time flying, so the view takes his breath away, his eyes widening as he tries to press up closer to the glass. It’s just like he’d always thought it would be—limitless blue all around, the white fluffy clouds moving along quickly as they pass by. He tries to memorize all the shapes he makes out, thinking of more and more ridiculous ones to tell Kageyama all about later, and snickering to himself when he tries to imagine the face of complete disbelief on his best friend’s face. And oh, won’t that be lovely? To have Kageyama looking at him again?

Shouyou’s really excited to see him again. He’s excited to see everyone again, really, and he can’t wait to hear all their stories and tell them all about his adventures. It’ll be really nice to be back and surrounded by everyone again. His heart swells every time he thinks of—he can’t wait to be back.

And once he’s all settled, Shouyou will start on his plan to join a professional team. He’s already picked one out—the _MSBY Black Jackals._ It’s the Division 1 team, the same team that Bokuto’s on, and Miya Atsumu, and Sakusa Kiyoomi. It’s a little funny how small the world can be sometimes, and how strange it is that he’s already gone against some of these people already before in high school. Shouyou hopes he’ll get in. He’s going to try his best.

He finally manages to get some sleep sixteen hours into the flight, and thankfully falls into it pretty deeply and straight enough that by the time he wakes up, there’s only an hour left until they finally land. He rubs the sleep out of his eyes when the announcement comes out overhead that they’ll be arriving soon, and he squishes his face against the glass, trying to get a glimpse of the world before him.

And there it is, still so tiny from how high up they are in the sky but visible nonetheless—small buildings and houses blending into one another against a green expanse, dark roads and hills, patches of fields and meadows glowing brightly underneath the sun. Shouyou tried to pretend he can spot his house, even if he’s probably hundreds of miles off, and he imagines his mom and Natsu inside, speaking to each other and preparing for his arrival. He pretends he can see Karasuno and the gym he spent most of his time in, or Sakanoshita Store with it’s tall vending machines. He even pretends finding Kageyama’s house, reminiscing back to a time he’d spent afternoons tossing volleyballs up in the air and spiking them down like nothing else mattered. He’s coming back to all of that.

Shouyou’s restless as the plane finally makes its descent downwards—he grips the armrests so tightly as they touch down, his knuckles turning white as the rumble of the plane hitting the ground grinds roughly against his legs, sending jolts down his spine as his heart races with both excitement and fear. He gathers up his things as quickly as possible, anticipating the announcement that’ll have him stepping out of the plane and into the stale scent of the airport, where everything always seems to be trapped in an infinite time loop, a liminal space no matter the hour.

Checking that his passport is with him, Shouyou braces himself for the fast-paced movement that has him going through security and collecting his suitcase, his heart lightning-quick in his chest as he becomes one step closer to finally coming home.

Once he’s finally gotten his bag, Shouyou heads over to the waiting area. There’s a lot of people around that it’s a little hard to see through the thick crowd—Shouyou stands on his toes to see better in the sea of people, scanning for signs of anything familiar. The chattering is loud in his ears as people reunite with their loved ones, bustling all around him, busy and unrelenting. He bites the inside of his cheek, and tries to walk around, keeping his eyes open.

He continues walking, quickly glancing around all the people, flitting from one to another. His eyes dart from left to right, searching, until they finally lock onto someone dark and tall with a frown on their face.

Shouyou freezes in place. He knows that face.

He _knows_ that _face_.

Because there, a few feet ahead of him—Kageyama Tobio is standing in an open area, holding a bouquet of sunflowers in his hands, looking just as breathtakingly beautiful as the day Shouyou had left.

And for a moment, Shouyou remembers something he’d thought about before he left, when he wondered if this was the kind of love that had you running through airports, uncaring and breathless—and looking at Kageyama for the first time in years, Shouyou decides, right there and then, that this _is_ that kind of love, after all.

Maybe it always has been.

Without another thought, he races towards Kageyama, dropping his backpack and leaving his suitcase behind as his heart begins to soar.

“Kageyama!” he shouts as he runs, his face splitting into the widest smile he can muster. “Kageyama!”

Shouyou tackles Kageyama into a hug, lifting his legs up to wrap around Kageyama’s waist as his arms come around Kageyama’s neck, squeezing him so tightly that Shouyou thinks he could probably burst into a million brilliant suns. Kageyama feels so achingly familiar and warm and comforting that Shouyou almost can’t breathe. He holds Kageyama, and it feels like he’s trying to put all the words he’d never said into this one single action, embracing his best friend like it will make up for all the texts he never sent, the words that got lost in the static, the calls he didn’t make. He hugs him, pouring out all the love he had felt in his absence, giving all the words that he wants to say to him, the promises that he made to himself to finally tell the truth. He gives it everything he has.

And this, Shouyou realizes, is what it means to truly come home.

“It’s really you,” he exhales, letting go as his feet touch back down on the ground. He feels something expanding with him, things that feel a lot like nostalgia and excitement rushing through him. _Relief._

“Who else would it be?” Kageyama says, with a warm smile, and his eyes shine with so much happiness that it makes Shouyou giddy all over to see it again. “You came back,” he says, almost like he doesn’t quite believe it, so Shouyou just takes his hand to make up for it, to prove that he’s real, that he’s _here._

“I promised, didn’t I?” Shouyou tells him, his face splitting into a grin so wide that his cheeks are starting to hurt. His eyes are stinging with tears that threaten to spill out. He feels like he’ll never stop smiling. “I told you would.”

“Yeah,” Kageyama says, and there’s that strange look on his face, but it’s filled with a happiness that cannot be measured. “You did.” And then it’s like he remembers what he’s holding, and he thrusts out the bouquet towards Shouyou, bright and yellow and golden. “Here,” he says, his cheeks immediately flushing, his eyes pointedly looking away, and oh, it’s been so long since Shouyou’s seen him like that. “They’re—they’re for you.”

“Really?” Shouyou says, surprised, gingerly talking the bouquet in his hands. His face feels so warm, but he doesn’t really seem to mind it, and his brain is short-circuiting because _Kageyama gave him flowers._ He gave Shouyou _sunflowers_. How did Kageyama know that he liked sunflowers? His heart is beating so loudly in his chest that it might just run away from him. He thinks he might explode thinking about the implications of what it could mean right now, so he stored it away to _definitely_ think about later. “I, um. Thank you,” he says, beaming toothily at him. “Thank you. They’re beautiful.”

Kageyama just smiles, and Shouyou looks right at him, and he sees his old heart right before him, still beating a melody more familiar than time itself.

But before either of them can say anything else, someone coughs their throat, and Shouyou blinks to see Yamaguchi as he steps out from behind Kageyama, still as freckled and boyish as ever. He grins at Shouyou.

“Yamaguchi!” Shouyou yells, quickly going up to hug him tightly.

“Nice to see you too,” Yamaguchi says, a teasing lilt to his tone as Shouyou steps back, beaming at him. “I’m happy to see you haven’t forgotten who I am.”

“I would never!” Shouyou says as he laughs, letting it bubble inside of him until it spills out. He can’t help it at all—as much as he loved Brazil, it feels so _good_ to be back. There really isn’t anything quite like home.

Shouyou collects his things as Yamaguchi suggests they leave now to avoid the inevitable traffic of the afternoon airport rush, and he can’t stop smiling for a single moment. Happiness floods every cell in his body, and the rush and excitement of being back still hasn’t worn off. It’s not long until he’s telling the two of them about all the things he’d done in Brazil, rambling on about Heitor and Pedro, sharing the story of how he’d ended up with more sunscreen bottles than he knows what to do with.

It feels a little like back then all over again, the easiness of conversation, flowing through topics without much to worry about. Shouyou and Yamaguchi crack jokes, while he and Kageyama bicker, and it’s so wonderfully easy to pick up right where they left off like nothing changed at all—like the two years meant nothing at all to the sturdiness if the friendship that they’ve all built Because here’s Shouyou again, laughing and talking, sneaking glances at Kageyama when he isn’t looking, like he’s in high school again and this is the way things always have been.

It’s nice. It’s really, really nice.

As they step out of the airport, Shouyou looks up at the great blue sky, reveling in how it looks now that he’s back on the ground. It still looks so infinite and overwhelming, proof that it’s always the same no matter where he goes. This is what it had looked like back in Brazil; this is what it looks like here in Japan. No matter where he is, the sky is always the same.

“A house,” Kageyama says suddenly, stepping next to Shouyou. His head is tilted to the sky as well, and it takes Shouyou a moment before he finally understands what Kageyama means—his chest warming at the notion, at the pattern of an old habit.

Shouyou hums. Turning away from the cloud, he looks right at Kageyama, and smiles, easy and genuine. “No,” he says. “I think it looks more like a home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the pining scene with hinata and oikawa at the beach is actually the main reason i wrote this whole fic!!! it was inspired by a convo with the lovely [chubsonthemoon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chubsonthemoon/pseuds/chubsonthemoon) and thus this whole thing was born out of it!! 
> 
> thank you so much for your patience and for reading!! last chapter will be up as soon as i finish it and im really excited for it!! you can find me on [tumblr!](https://superish.tumblr.com) <3


	7. daylight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaaa we're finally here!!!! i just want to say thank you to everyone who's read this fic, left kudos, and commented!!! i've read each one and i truly love all of them so so much!!!! especially to those who comment on each chapter!!! thank you for coming all the way to the end and for sticking by with this story!! it's the longest one i've ever written and i've never really done a slow burn like this before so i really appreciate it!! <33
> 
> as always, thank you to [chubsonthemoon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chubsonthemoon/pseuds/chubsonthemoon) for being such a wonderful and amazing friend!!! and of course thank you to [oceanfire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/oceanfire/pseuds/oceanfire) for everything (and for sitting through all of this)!!!
> 
> i hope you enjoy!!! here's to kagehina <3

Remember, that this is how it all began:

Two boys, facing each other with a pink-streaked sky for them to carry on their shoulders, and a declaration of war said loud enough for the heavens to hear it.

The wind whispers something for them to hear, and now they have understood what it was trying to say. It is the words an old man tells his grandson, about better players and moving forward. It is something that time has told them again and again, revealed underneath cotton candy skies and next to seaside summer waves. It is something that they’ve found and learned, the beginning of something that sparked into a thousand flames, a promise that transcends lifetimes. It is for the same reason that they didn’t fall in love so much as they grew into it, made themselves for each other rather than being born for it, two lost souls learning to share the spaces left empty by the other. It is not the best beginning, but it remains constant amidst everything else—the steady ground beneath their feet, a lifeboat in the middle of the sea. And still it remains, at its very core, the most honest versions of themselves. It is honest, and it is true, and it’s what they’ve been waiting for. After all these years, it is still _them._

And this time, they’ll finally get it right.

And so, just as promised, the story begins again, rewritten.

Shouyou breathes it all in. Today’s the day.

It’s the seventeenth of November, the air mellowing down as the season changes into something crisper and cooler, and he feels the anticipation like a drum beat within his very soul, counting down the seconds. This is what he’s been waiting for this whole time—all of this, seven years in the making, and it’s finally here. The day stands before him, tall and daunting, but Shouyou isn’t afraid at all. He’s ready.

After the bus finally parks and the team stumbles out of the vehicle, Shouyou looks up in awe, at the old Sendai City gym, and it feels as though all the games he’s played in the past are coalescing into this one single moment—falling into one grand and ultimate game. He’s wearing his black jersey, the number _21_ written in bold, his name on the back, the jacket hanging off his shoulders, emblazoned _MSBY_ right across his chest _._ This is his professional debut—his very first match in the pro league, and Shouyou can’t wait to feel the ball underneath his fingertips, the sting on his forearms and palms, his breath coming out quick and eager as he stands under the bright fluorescent lights, the roar of the crowd thunderous in his ears.

This is finally it. The MSBY Black Jackals vs. the Schweiden Adlers. Both V.League Division 1 teams, both at the top of their game, with a wide range of skillful players on their rosters. Shouyou’s been told that the Adlers have been the reigning champions of the first division for three years straight. He’s determined to make today the match that finally breaks that streak.

“ _Gwah!”_ Shouyou says the moment he finally steps into the gym, taking the whole court before him. He breathes it in, and it’s like he’s fourteen again, awestruck and enamored. “The smell of icy hot spray!”

There’s still a couple of minutes before the match actually begins, and Shouyou looks around at all the people who have come to spectate. There’s a lot of kids, some adults too, unfamiliar faces and strangers. A few are even wearing merch, for both the Adlers and the Jackals, decorated in either white and navy blue, or black and gold. It’s thrilling to see the amount of people that have come to watch. Shouyou knows that most of his old senpai, some kouhai, and a lot of his friends are here—Takeda and Coach Ukai had even brought along the current Karasuno team to come and spectate. Natsu and his mom are watching somewhere from the stands, and Pedro, Heitor, and Nice are tuning in from a livestream. Izumi and Koji told him that they’d be here today, to watch Shouyou finally make good on the declaration they’d witnessed firsthand all those years ago.

He’s going to make all of them proud.

As the team begins preparing for the match, Shouyou finds himself with the sudden urge to go to the bathroom. He excuses himself and heads on over, and it feels almost nostalgic, the way a familiar, upbeat song slips out of his lips. For a moment, he wonders if it’ll be just like old times, when he’d encounter an opponent right in front of the door, and he humors the notion with a sneaking suspicion that it might as just well happen, and it’ll come any moment now—

“Not gonna have any bowel issues today, are you?” Kageyama Tobio says with a smirk on his lips, and Shouyou feels his own mouth twitch into a sharp smile. _Ah,_ he thinks. _There you are._

Some things never really do change.

And standing there, it feels like he’s that middle school kid again, wearing the captain’s number in green, eyes flashing with a confidence that sheer determination could win it all. It’s like he’s back there again, meeting Kageyama for the first time, arrogant and rude, but it had also been like he’d settled back into a dream of another time, like he’d known him his whole life. It fills his heart with an emotion that he cannot name, fulfillment etching into his skin with a rawness that comes with making promises and seeing them through. The final boss, Shouyou thinks to himself. This is what it’s all led up to.

Hinata Shouyou and Kageyama Tobio, battling on the same stage, on opposite sides of the court once more, in a race to see who will be able stand the longest.

It almost feels too surreal, but Shouyou doesn’t let it sway him. He faces Kageyama properly, a smirk of his own edging its way onto his face, sharp and hard lines. He retorts back at Kageyama, and breathes out a laugh when Kageyama tries to swipe at him—dodging is muscle memory, and it’s all too achingly familiar and easy. Shouyou still can’t get over the startling simplicity of falling back into rhythm and old habits—ever since he came back home, he and Kageyama have tried meeting up and every now and then, but as the match crept closer their hang-outs became less and less frequent in favor of more and more practice for today—and it still surprises him each and every time how quick and easy it is for the casualness between them to steal his breath his away.

It’s a little funny how almost everyone crowds into the bathroom, taunting and bickering back and forth like an inconveniently placed pre-match trash-talking session. It really is such a small world sometimes, in Shouyou’s opinion, seeing Hoshiumi and Ushijima here, real and in front of him, like he’s back in his first year of high school, playing matches against them. Eventually, they all have to head back to start the game and actually battle it out, and Shouyou shoots one last glance at Kageyama before they’re all heralded away—finding the setter already looking back at him, that steady and unwavering determination cast all of his features, causing a fire to ignite all over within Shouyou. _I’m going to win today,_ Shouyou says, and he knows he doesn’t need words for Kageyama to understand, if the way his eyes narrow are any indication of a challenge accepted.

This match, it’s for the two of them more than anything else. They’ve been waiting years for it.

Here it finally is.

Under brilliant spotlights, Kageyama Tobio and Hinata Shouyou shake hands before the match begins, a phenomena in the making. Two hearts falling back into sync, finding the same pace.

_“And in a surprising move, the Black Jackals are resting their main cannon, Oliver Barns, today. Instead, they’re starting No. 21, the newcomer, Hinata Shouyou, in a spot opposite to the setter. Today is his debut game.”_

_“Ah, I see. Hinata Shouyou was a known name on the National Tournament scene during his high school days, but after graduation, he promptly went to Brazil on his own to play beach volleyball. Yet, after only two years, he returned to Japan and indoor volleyball. It’s an unusual pro career path, that’s for certain.”_

_“But that isn’t the only oddity about Hinata’s career. Back in high school, he played middle blocker of all positions, even though he was the shortest non-libero in the tournament.”_

_“He was also teammates with—believe it or not—Kageyama Tobio! Together, they shocked and terrified their opponents with their infamous freak quicks. Now, then…_

_“This is the monster generation. Let the match begin!”_

The whistle blows. A ball is spun six times, before it’s thrown up into the air like a strike of lightning, known for its inability to miss, a legendary service. But a blur of orange is quick to move like a hurricane, and the ball is bumped back into the air without another second wasted.

And yet, almost like a miracle—Kageyama Tobio is smiling.

Miya Atsumu sets the ball, and Hinata Shouyou jumps as though he has always been made to fly, reaching for the sky with a solid kick to the ground, rumbling and steady. His hand comes up to spike the ball, hurtling at terminal velocity that’s almost impossible to track—

And scores the Black Jackals the first point of the set.

“ _I’m here!”_ Hinata shouts, eyes squeezed shut as he throws his hands into the air. A smile splits across his face, and from across the net, Tobio’s chest tightens.

He’d forgotten how happy that made him.

His lips quirk into a smile of his own. “Took you long enough.”

Shouyou comes up for a serve, his heart thundering in his chest as the crowd roars his name like a battlecry. He runs, jumps, and aims, and the ball finds its mark.

Kageyama’s eyes are on him, something dangerous in the curve of his smile.

At a tied score of 7-7, Nicolas Romero turns to his teammates, his eyes widening with a realization born from the latest dig done by a member of the Black Jackals.

“I thought that guy looked familiar. Is it me,” he says, a finger pointed to the other side of the court, “or is that _Ninja Shouyou?”_

When he gets no reply, he tries to elaborate, gesturing widely, a little helpless, “ _What?_ You haven’t heard of _Ninja Shouyou?_ How do you not know him when you’re Japanese? My son is saying he wants to play beach volleyball, all because he watched him on TV!”

Tobio, Hoshiumi, and Ushijima stare at him blankly. Hinata has always been Hinata: a player with unstoppable desire, a formidable opponent, a worthy rival.

And now— _the strongest decoy._

They’ve always known that. Tobio had seen it before anyone else did.

“ _Wow! What a beautiful emergency set from Hinata Shouyou! That was an impressive hit from Miya Atsumu as well.”_

_“You’ve got that right. For all their hitters to be able to make an approach for an up-tempo attack without the slightest hesitation makes the Black Jackals an extremely frightening opponent!”_

_“There goes Hinata again! Boy, he fooled those blockers good. That’s four consecutive points for the Jackals!”_

The Black Jackals are the first to reach set point. Romero receives the serve, taking him out of the picture as the ball makes its descent to Kageyama’s fingertips. With bated breath, they wait to see who Kageyama will set it to—Ushijima is there within a millisecond, form perfect as he slams the ball down.

Shouyou moves, light on his feet, arms outstretched as the ball lands, a heavy and hard impact that he’s unable to control—causing it to bump back into the air and falling close to one of the stands. Across the net, Ushijima looks at him—slightly apologetic, as though he’s sorry for being too strong—and Shouyou nods, his forearms pink and stinging as he makes his way back into position.

He watches as Kageyama moves back to serve, the ball in his hands moving like he’s bending it to his own will, untouched by gravity. It’s familiar and strange all at once—Shouyou’s always known that he wasn’t the only one who improved within the last two years, but watching it before him, with his own eyes and not on a screen, it’s in that moment that he realizes how exponential Kageyama’s growth had been. Firsthand recognition, and Shouyou stares as he shoots the ball down like a bullet.

Atsumu manages to get a hand under it, and without missing a beat, Shouyou’s moving the moment it happens—jumping into the air with a hand outstretched, a grin stretching into his face as he anticipates what comes next.

Within a split second, he changes his form, and sets the ball over to the left, and Bokuto slams it down instantly, the sound reverberating all throughout the gym. Everyone’s eyes are on him, quiet, as they slowly realize what just happened. That it had been just another decoy trick, confusing the blockers well enough and becoming a storm that no one had seen coming.

And this, Shouyou tells himself, proud and satisfied, this is what means to be able to do _everything._ This is what it means to be strong. And strength—

Strength means being free.

When Tobio was small, he wore the number _12_ on a team called the Little Falcons. It had been his very first team, and when he held his jersey up to the light for the very first time, it was as though the colors had shimmered, kaleidoscopic to a young boy when all it had really been was a simple piece of cloth. But it had sparked something inside of him to see it, his first official jersey, and Tobio had felt something marvelous fill the spaces inside of him, looking at it in awe and wonder and already thinking of all the games he could play.

Kazuyo had laughed and ruffled his hair, pride and amusement in his eyes—filled with blue just like Tobio’s, with flecks of silver just right on the surface. Tobio still remembers the way they glinted in the light, like crystals, clearer than any sunny sky.

Tobio wanted to be just like him. He wanted to play and play and play until he couldn’t anymore. He wanted to be the one who touched the ball the most. He wanted to be a setter. More than anything, he wanted to make Kazuyo proud of him.

And once, on a pink-purple afternoon, after Tobio’s team had won their first tournament, Kazuyo had looked at him, and said, “In the second half of the match, you served weaker on purpose, didn’t you?”

Tobio had stilled, embarrassed at being caught. During the game, he’d caught a glimpse of Kazuyo smiling as he watched him play, but he didn’t think that he’d notice what Tobio was doing. He looked away, his palms beginning to sweat. Was that such a bad thing? He didn’t do it to be mean or anything, he just—

“What made you think to do that?” Kazuyo asked him, but his voice was gentle and kind, as it always was around Tobio. His grandfather looked at him expectantly as he fiddled with the hem of his shirt, trying to come up with the right words.

“The match…” Tobio started to say, struggling with the shapes of the syllables. “It seemed to end too fast. I…I wanted to play more.”

Kazuyo didn’t look mad at all. Instead, he tipped his head towards the sky, as though he was reveling in it, revisiting old memories and echoes. “You know, Tobio,” he had said, a smile on his lips. “If you get really, _really_ good, you’ll get to play lots more games.”

And Tobio had stared at him, a little uncomprehending of where this was going. But it felt like a revelation was tugging at the back of his mind, a string tugging him towards somewhere unknown. But he could feel that it was important, whatever Kazuyo had to say, so he listened intently, not wanting to miss a single word.

“If you get really good, I promise you,” Kazuyo said, bending over a little with a finger pointed skywards, his eyes shining with the gold of the sunset. “Somebody who’s even better will come and find you.”

It was like the wind had breezed past then, knowing that this was some grand declaration that would stick with Tobio for all the years to come. He stared up at Kazuyo in awe, committing his words to memory. Tobio was young and didn’t know much about promises, but this one sounded like an oath of the highest kind, and he held it tightly to his chest, tucking it into his ribs so that he’d never lose it. This was significant in some way, he could tell. This would help him understand invincibility.

Tobio had been right back then. He’d been right to know it was true, that it was important. He’d been right to know that it would come back for him.

Because now, as Tobio stands under bright lights, twenty-one and still learning, sweat and satisfaction on his skin, he knows that it’s never been truer than at this very moment. Right now, as he watches as Hinata’s feet touch the ground again, he knows, without a single doubt, that it’s real. Because there is the evidence right before him, in the wild-eyed look of the boy who’d found him all those years ago. There is Hinata Shouyou, the one person Tobio’s been waiting for his whole life.

_Somebody who’s even better will come and find you._

And in truth, he thinks he’s always known. Back then, he already had an idea that it would be Hinata, back when they were still fifteen and reckless and promised each other invincibility. He’d known it would always be Hinata, and he’s glad that he’d been right. He doesn’t think he’d want it to be anyone else. No one else had stormed into his life the way Hinata had, obnoxious and loud and messy, walking right into the garden of Tobio’s heart and making a mess of things, entangling himself so deeply in Tobio’s roots that there will always be a space for him no matter where they go.

It was always going to be Hinata. It still is.

Kageyama aims serve after serve towards Shouyou, and he bumps it back up each and every time, wiping that smug smirk off of his face and watching it melt away into irritation. It’s not that easy, though; there’s a reason Kageyama’s serves have always been feared, and Shouyou is skilled just enough that he’s able to send it back up in the nick of time.

Kageyama’s always been one of the best players Shouyou knows. This, in itself, is an irreversible and fundamental fact. From the way he plays with precision and accuracy, calculating every move with purpose, to the way he cares for his nails and writes things down in his volleyball log to remind himself of what he lacks. And watching him now, the boy king from high school turned into a mighty monster, Shouyou knows that there is no point in holding back from either side. This is who Kageyama has grown into—someone to be feared when going against, but someone incredibly reliable when on the same side of court. Shouyou’s always known that he was meant for great things.

Karasuno had helped him open up, taught him how to balance the right things on his hands, and lifted the burdens from his shoulders to share some of the weight. And Shouyou had been there with him, patient enough to see it through, even when words didn’t quite come out right at times—back then, there were some people, Shouyou had observed, who didn’t feel that Kageyama was worth enough to wait for, but Shouyou had decided that he would much rather sit in the quiet for a few moments than stay in silence forever. But those things have changed now, all for the better, and it’s why Shouyou can’t help the awe and wonderment that surges through him as he watches Kageyama set the ball with something close to perfection.

The Adlers score another point, holding their heads up high. Kageyama stands close to the net, looking at Shouyou with a sharpness to his stance, and Shouyou feels the ground rumble beneath his feet with the sheer force of the tension.

Because no matter how much time has passed, Shouyou still sees the king whose crown he returned, the boy who first showed him how it feels to fly. He still sees that same boy from all those years ago, with sky-eyes and midnight hair. He sees Kageyama Tobio, the setter who learned to hold pride in one hand and trust in the other, a perfect balance of skill—the true _King of the Court._

And what a view it is, Shouyou thinks to himself, to see how well Kageyama had stepped into his role. It takes his breath away, and he sees the crown on Kageyama’s head, the robe on his shoulders, glinting gold and red, and knows that there is no one else who wears it better than him.

But then again—he’s always known that, hasn’t he?

_“Wow, what a trick from Hinata Shouyou! Smoothly transitioning from a setting form into a powerful left-handed spike!”_

_“Indeed. He has incredible balance, which allows him to shift and move as he needs to even in midair.”_

_“And so the littlest monster steals away the third set for the Black Jackals! The set count now sits at two to one in favor of the Black Jackals. One more, and they’ll walk away with the win!”_

_“Will they take this momentum and run away with the game? Or will the Adlers get back on track and stop them?”_

_“The fourth set begins with a serve from setter Miya Atsumu! Let’s see how it goes…”_

_“Kageyama!”_ Hoshiumi yells from the other side of the court, his jaw set in determination as he jumps into the air. Kageyama doesn’t hesitate for another second—it’s a broad set all the way to the right end. Hoshiumi’s flying, a hand coming up to spike the ball down—

But then right next to Sakusa, Shouyou appears, blocking the ball’s path and causing it to fall on the other end, landing on the ground with a long and hard echo. His shoes squeak as he feels back to the ground, the flames of satisfaction licking under his skin, and he faces Hoshiumi’s narrowed eyes.

Years ago, as they stood there, on opposite sides of the net, this had been called the battle of two small giants—and perhaps to some certain extent, it still is. It’s the fulfillment of a promise, just like everything else about this match is—from Atsumu setting to him, facing off Ushijima once more, to finally beating Kageyama and catching up to him. It’s everything all at once, puzzle pieces falling into place after years of trying to find the right spot. It’s about coordination and competition and combat, rivalries and teamwork and winning and losing. It’s about how your high school selves never truly leave you, not really. It’s the biggest and most dramatic game Shouyou’s ever played, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

The sand underneath his feet. The taste of salt on his lips. The sweat on his skin. The sun shining above his head, the heat beating down his back. A breath of air. Focus. Hold your arms out, predict where the ball will go, follow the trajectory instead of the object itself. Keep your balance.

_Be there._

Ushijima Wakatoshi jumps to spike the ball, powerful and heavy, breaking through the blockers’ wall almost effortlessly. He has done this many times before, and he will do it several times more.

But not this time.

Not this time, because Shouyou is there to greet the ball, his stance wide and steady as he angles his arms just right to get the ball back up in the air without losing control of it. It is an unstoppable force meeting an immovable object, except Shouyou is able to nudge it in his favor. His feet remain steady on the ground after being so practiced in the art of stumbling in the sand, muscle memory and skill that allows him to stand his ground. He does not move. He does not collapse. This is what it was all for.

Shouyou yells, pumping a fist in the air, and feels every failure and every loss merge into this one second right in front of him, the success lingering sweet on his tongue. Because this is everything he’s worked toward—to be able to hold his ground on his own, to be able to receive the hardest spike. This moment right here, _this is still volleyball._ His chest explodes as the crowd roars all around him. That was not luck, he tells himself. That was not by chance. That was the culmination of all that he learned and practiced. That was skill. That was all him.

This is the boy who sprouted from the concrete.

Tobio spins the ball in his hands. His jump serve, practiced a million times over and etched into his mind and muscles, honed to perfection. He wonders what Miwa thinks of it as she watches now, if he’s holding up to what she had told him about it. He hits the ball with all the force he can muster, narrowing his eyes as he waits for it to make an impact.

And make an impact it does, not on the ground, but on Hinata’s arms. He’s there in the blink of an eye, receiving the ball back up into the air. The scores are closely tied, everybody running high on adrenaline and nerves. Tobio feels the excitement shoot through his veins like electricity down his spine, incredibly fired up.

Atsumu sets the ball to Bokuto, who attempts to spike it down through Romero’s block. Heiwajima is there to receive it back up, but the momentum is too strong and he loses control of it—the ball shoots toward the other side of the court. But it’s still _their_ ball, Tobio realizes, and without another thought he’s running to the other side, ducking under the edge of the net.

He positions himself instantly, bringing his hands up to set the ball back to their side of the court. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Hoshiumi already running up to jump, and Tobio aims the ball to where he’ll be. At this angle, at this height, at this point—he thrusts the ball sideways, willing it to find its mark.

“ _Kageyama Tobio just set the ball from outside the pins!”_

Hoshiumi slams it down, always practiced in midair battles, right through the blockers’ hands. It lands close to the corner, just a margin away from the fine line, and Tobio’s relieved to see that it’s made it in.

This is why he plays—for the thrill, for the danger, for the excitement. The cooler the hitters are, the happier he is a setter. He feels it right down to his very bones, and thrumming and buzzing under his skin, the lights flashing in his eyes like spotlights. He never wants this to end.

Tobio makes his way back to the right side, stepping behind the line as a ball is handed to him for another serve. _Let’s keep going,_ he thinks as a sharp smile rises to his lips. _Let’s keep playing._ He spins the ball, scanning ahead of him to choose a spot to aim for, his heart as loud as the drums in the cheering crowd.

Tobio’s eyes catch on Hinata’s from across the net, firelit sunset turned blazing inferno, and looking at him, Tobio thinks—

This is the most fun he’s ever had in his whole life.

They’re at set point, holding on with a long rally that never seems to end. The ball moves lightning-quick all over the place, bouncing off arms and shooting across the court like a bullet. Set, spike, block, receive, repeat. Over and over again, the ball never once touches the ground, eyes watching as it moves like a blur, a gust of wind itself, sharp blue and yellow against the blinding lights.

Shouyou swallows, grits his teeth. Breathes, and lets it all go, loosening the tension in his muscles. He can’t let a single moment go to waste.

Hoshiumi receives the ball back into the air, diving to get it. Kageyama is quick to set it over to Romero, who spikes the ball down with an intense force. Shouyou is moving before he even realizes it, bending just enough to reach the ball, arms forward, watching as it arcs over to Atsumu.

Shouyou jumps up as Bokuto does on the other end of the net. Kageyama has his arms outstretched in front of him, ready to block him—and it feels familiar, like an old memory of seven years past, but Shouyou doesn’t have time to detail it. The ball bounces against Kageyama’s hand, and Shouyou moves quickly—he saves the ball with the back of his foot. Atsumu is already in action, setting it up perfectly.

Shouyou moves to the other side of the court, running across the broad width—and this, _this_ is familiar, like he’s wearing a green uniform again, soaring through the air, determined above anything else, anticipating for the ball to come his way, putting his whole body into his swing as all of the blockers’ keep their attention on him.

But in the end, that’s what makes him such an effective and efficient decoy—from the other side, Bokuto slams the ball down without hesitation, the true ace of the world. It hits the ground, a loud thud that encompasses even the sound of all the audience cheering, and Shouyou falls back to the ground—and a warmth overwhelms him almost immediately as he realizes what happened. The whistle blows, signaling the end of the game.

They won. The Black Jackals _won._

Shouyou _won._

He pumps a fist as he yells, roaring as he squeezes shut with the triumph. He’s proud and grateful and exceedingly _happy—_ he feels like he could burst in that very moment, his chest expanding as all the tension falls away to give way to something bright and incandescent, a sunburst in him instead of a heart seizing up immeasurably. The Black Jackals crowd together, and Shouyou’s hair is ruffled, his back pat several times over, the smile on his face so wide that he doesn’t think anything could shake it off. This is it. This is all it had come to. _He won._ He fulfilled his promise.

As they go over to the net to shake hands with the Adlers, Shouyou finds Kageyama at the center of it all—a focal point amidst all the chaos and blurry lines. He looks at him—at the boy he’s been trying to catch up all these years, thinking about how he’s finally made it, and now they stand on the same stage, as _equals._ This is what it’s all led up to. This is what a younger version of him declared and promised; this is proof of just how far he’s come since then.

“You’re here,” Kageyama says, and it’s all that he needs to say for Shouyou to understand what he really means. The smile that rises to his lips despite his defeat proves it—that instead, what lingers beyond loss is the satisfaction of knowing he was right all along, that he’d been confident that Shouyou would always get here, that they would find each other at this very moment.

“I’m here,” Shouyou says back, and it’s as though all the air has been stolen from his lungs, as he looks up at Kageyama. _Even if it takes ten years or twenty…_ Well, he’s here now, and he’s done it. Even though it’s just the first game of the season, and there’ll be a whole lot more matches to play, this one had meant something significant. There was more to it than just a game between two pro teams and old rivals. This one held something on the line, held the sun cusped in its wake, finally reaching over the cross that divide. This one had been for _them._ “That’s one thousand ninety-six wins for me, and one thousand one hundred losses.”

Kageyama smiles, satisfied, evidently pleased to still be in the lead. When Atsumu and Bokuto ask what they mean, Shouyou is quick to explain it to them—that this is every competition they’ve ever had, big or small, meaningful or not. It consists of every race and every food-eating contest, each higher test score and each height growth. It’s everything that’s been part of their friendship, tallied down and engraved so deeply into their minds that they don’t even need a notebook to write it all down.

“Oh, wait!” Shouyou exclaims suddenly. “I haven’t added in my beach volleyball games yet! Think I should add in the pickup games too?”

Kageyama shrugs. “If you do, I’m adding in all my scrimmages.”

Shouyou nods fervently, already trying to do a mental count of all the games he’d played. He’ll have to properly track it down later just to make sure that he didn’t miss any. After a moment, he looks up at Kageyama again. “You’re coming to the dinner later, right? Everyone’s gonna be there.”

“Yeah,” Kageyama answers easily enough, ducking under the net so that he can stand next to Shouyou properly. For a moment, something close to uncertainty flickers across his face, and his eyes are skittish, not really looking back at Shouyou. “So what—what happens now?”

Shouyou tilts his head in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“You know,” Kageyama says, looking boyish again, like the unsure teenager he was back then, stumbling around for the right words. “You’re here. What happens next? Where do we—where do we go from here?”

 _Oh,_ Shouyou thinks, understanding immediately. Now that the match is officially over, this is where the two of them are now, side by side. They’re standing at a new starting point, and it’s up to them to decide where to go from here. Shouyou remembers Heitor’s words, and thinks, _there is nothing left to lose._

“I don’t know,” Shouyou admits honestly, feeling his cheeks warm at the memory of what he’d told himself he’d do once he finally caught up to Kageyama. His heart skips a beat—is this the right moment for it? Probably not, with all these people still around, and there are cameras lingering about. Kageyama probably wouldn’t appreciate being confessed to like that—that is, if he liked being confessed to _at all_ , particularly by Shouyou. No, this can’t be the right time for it. He doesn’t feel totally ready for it either; the exhaustion is starting to wear on him slowly, and something like that would be emotionally taxing too. Maybe later, or sometime in the near future. He’s not exactly sure when, but he’ll find the right moment. It’ll _definitely_ happen. He just needs to work up his courage to actually say it. _Be honest. Say what you feel._

“Maybe…” Shouyou trails, Kageyama looking at him expectantly. He swallows, taking a deep breath. “Maybe we can just see where it goes from here. Just go with it, you know? As we’ve always done. See where it goes.”

Kageyama nods in agreement, a small smile on his lips to show that he’s alright with it. Like a river during the rainy season, a bumpy ride that’ll get them there eventually. “Okay,” he says simply, and it’s a little like he’s thinking things over too. Shouyou isn’t all that sure what it could be. “That’s okay with me.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Kageyama’s ears are a little pink. He opens his mouth to say something, but then someone calls Shouyou’s name, and Shouyou turns to see his captain, reminding him that he still needs to do his cool down stretches. “I’ll see you later then?”

“Mhm!” Shouyou tells him with a crooked grin. “See you, Kageyama!” He rushes over to where Sakusa and Atsumu are, talking to one another as they stretch out their arms and legs.

To his own surprise, Nicolas Romero walks up to him, a small boy in tow, and asks if his son can take a picture with him. _Him!_ Shouyou! A picture with _Romero’s_ _son!_ He quickly tries to quell his surprise and crouches down to talk animatedly with the young boy, slipping easily into Portuguese. It makes Shouyou so giddy that he tries to tone down his excitement so he doesn’t overwhelm the kid, talking to him gently, just like he used to do when Natsu was smaller.

But Romero isn’t the only one to ask for him. Some time later, he’s told that someone from the association wants to talk to him—and he’s shocked to find Kuroo Tetsurou at the end of it. He offers Shouyou a deal, and since Kenma seems to be involved, he figures that it’s pretty exciting and it doesn’t seem all that bad. Shouyou agrees, blissfully ignorant of the concerned looks Atsumu and Sakusa throw his way.

Some people even ask for Shouyou’s autograph, asking him to sign their jerseys—they have ones with his number on it too!—and trying to get him to answer all kinds of stuff, like what his favorite color is (yellow usually, but he likes sky blue sometimes), or why he started playing volleyball in the first place (he gives them the short answer: he’d seen someone incredible on TV one day, and knew that he wanted to be able to fly just as they did). Natsu comes and tackles him into a hug, remarking on how amazing he did, and he peppers kisses all over her face until she pushes him away, laughing and saying that he’s all gross and sweaty.

As he’s meeting up with Izumi and Koji, Shouyou sees Kageyama approach Kindaichi and Kunimi from afar, and he says something to them that he can’t make out. It must be something good, though, because they all leave with little smiles on their faces. Shouyou’s glad—it’s been a long time since middle school, and it makes him happy to see that they’ve all moved past it. It’s never good to dwell on those kinds of things too much, anyway.

Eventually, he does get to see his other friends too. Shouyou teases Kageyama about one of his plays, patting him on the back jokingly, as he tries to refute it, the barest blush of pink glowing on his cheekbones in embarrassment. Yachi laughs, the sound light and airy, filling up the gaps in time and distance, and she tells them that they both did well. Yamaguchi’s got a cheerful grin on his face too, and he wipes a fake tear dramatically, saying that he’s so proud of how far they’ve come. Tsukishima just rolls his eyes and tells them that they’re both monsters on court, and that seems to be one thing that’s never changed. But Shouyou knows Tsukishima’s secretly happy that he’s here—he’s still got that marshmallow center after all—and the way that he tries to discreetly take Yamaguchi’s hand in his as they walk (Shouyou can be very perceptive sometimes, thank you very much) confirms his suspicions of what all the lingering glances and light teasing might mean. It makes him think about Kageyama again, if only for a moment, listening to one of Kageyama’s comments on the game, focusing on how he shapes the syllables and makes them come out smoothly and fluently, like it’s never been difficult at all.

And it’s in times like this, with all of them heading out to dinner for one big and grand reunion, that Shouyou remembers just how volleyball connects people in the greatest ways. Even if you don’t realize it or see it coming, even when it doesn’t seem like much or all that extraordinary—there is still a chemical change happening underneath the surface, unraveling threads and strings that tie them all together no matter what happens. It’s how he’s here now, laughing and bickering with his friends the way it’s always meant to be, as though not a single day has passed when they were apart. It’s what’s brought him there to this very moment—from that day he challenged Kageyama to something bigger than either of them, to how he found him again in Karasuno, to where they are now, finally on equal footing after a chase around the world. There is nothing else left but the sweeping sensation of love that gathers as he’s surrounded by his loved ones, and Shouyou presses it tightly against his chest, unwilling to let go. He doesn’t want to, not when he’s been taught to take care of it.

And he will, for all the rest of his days. He’ll take care of it.

Stepping into the restaurant, Tobio realizes that when Hinata had told him that everyone would be there, he had literally meant _everyone_.

Tobio arrives a little late, since he’d spent a couple of minutes talking to Miwa on the phone after his shower, and when he enters the restaurant, it’s much more crowded and lively than he had expected. It’s filled to the brim with laughter and talking, food plated across the tables and chairs haphazardly turned, the atmosphere cheery and light as he navigates his way inside. It’s like a full blown-out reunion, spurred on by today’s match to bring everyone together one more time.

He figured it was safe to assume that the whole Karasuno team would be here—they’d all been invited to the game, of course—ranging from their old senpai (Sugawara had asked Tobio for his autograph, even when _he_ was the one who designed it for him years ago) to some of their kouhai and their coaches. It’s expected that all the Jackals are here to celebrate too, and Tobio has no doubt that Hinata had been the reason for their invitation. But he’s surprised to see that most of his own team is here too, laughing and mingling with one another as if today’s match had never happened. The evident lack of hard feelings makes him feel incredibly relieved, and Tobio looks around, glancing to see who else had come to the reunion.

He spots Akaashi Keiji by the corner, Fukurodani’s old setter and someone Tobio had admired a lot back in high school, the lights gentle on him as he nods along to an animated Bokuto, a fond smile on his lips. There’s also Kuroo Tetsurou, the captain of Nekoma, caught in a conversation with Sawamura and Azumane, a mischievous look on his face that makes Tobio shudder. He sees both the Miya twins, bickering back and forth, as Hoshiumi watches them eagerly, amused as he eggs them on. Sakusa and Ushijima are conversing by the corner, neutral expressions on their faces as always, while Tsukishima is speaking to his brother and Tanaka’s sister, both of whom already look half-drunk happy, cheeks flushed and laughing loudly. Yachi is talking to Shimizu, and looking immensely proud when Shimizu laughs at something she’d said, and Yamaguchi listens eagerly as Sugawara recounts a tale with a sparkle in his eye. Tobio looks around, and maybe it’s just a reflex by now, or an old habit, that he’s trying to spot a certain redhead without even meaning to, wondering where he is in all the commotion.

It doesn’t take him all that long. Hinata Shouyou might as well be the social butterfly of the volleyball world, moving around people and tables and jumping in and out of conversations without breaking a single sweat. His laugh fills up the whole room, and his smile is bright and wide no matter where he goes. Bokuto slings an arm around Hinata’s shoulder as they crack jokes like a comedy duo, and Tanaka hollers to back them up with terrible pick-up lines. He’s there to poke fun at Tsukishima with Yamaguchi, and Sawamura ruffles his hair when he comes on by—he’d done the same thing to Tobio earlier—and Sugawara smiles at him with pride. He’s everywhere all at once, a blur of movement, and it reminds Tobio so much of when they were young.

And just as he’s in the middle of talking to Akaashi about different onigiri flavors, he hears a familiar voice call out his name, loud and ringing in his ears, clear like crystal despite all the laughing and talking.

“Kageyama!” Hinata says, running up to him with a breathless grin. His cheeks are flushed, his eyes overbright under the white lights of the restaurant. “Kageyama, you came!”

Tobio falters a bit, his mouth running dry when all he can think about is how sweet his name sounds on Hinata’s tongue, smooth on the syllables. He’s said it so many times in different variations, different cadences, but they always seem to hold something special in them, and it leaves Tobio clinging onto the aftertaste each time. Like his name is safe with Hinata, that he’d taken a name spit out by middle school boys and turned it into something to be treated with reverence.

Maybe he’s being a little dramatic.

“Yeah,” he says simply, mostly because he isn’t really sure what else to say. Of course he came—all of his friends are here, and Hinata had asked him to come, so he didn’t really have to think twice about it. And it’s always good to relax a little after a good game, and with the season just beginning, moments to slow down and take a short break won’t come around as often anymore as they get more into it.

“If you had come earlier, we could’ve joined the arm-wrestling match,” Hinata tells him, sliding into the seat next to him. Their shoulders touch. Tobio tries not to think about it. “Then I would’ve proved that I can beat you!”

Tobio scoffs. “Like you actually could.”

“I totally could!” Hinata argues. “Your arm would be down in two seconds flat.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“Completely!” Hinata whips his head around. “What do you think, Akaashi-san? I could definitely beat Kageyama, right?”

Akaashi takes a long sip from his drink. He doesn’t say anything.

Hinata is undeterred, turning back to Kageyama. “I’ll make you see, Bakageyama, and then you’ll eat your words!”

“Don’t be a dumbass—”

Suddenly, there’s the sound of glass shattering—it catches everyone’s attention and in the middle of it stands Bokuto, a sheepish expression on his face, pieces of glass fractured on the ground before his feet. “Oops,” he says, his cheeks turning pink. “Sorry. Got too excited over the sushi.”

Next to him, Akaashi just sighs exasperatedly, pinching the bridge of his nose. Then with a deep breath, he stands from his seat, turns to Tobio and Hinata, and says, “Please excuse me. I need to speak to my husband.” He leaves without waiting for an answer, walking over to where Bokuto is, taking him by the arm and leading him to another corner. Despite the accident, Bokuto looks happy to have Akaashi’s attention on him.

“That’s actually the third glass he’s broken today,” Hinata tells him, leaning over, voice hushed and low, bringing a hand up to whisper to him, almost conspiratorially. There’s a mischievous glint in his eyes. “The first time was because Kuroo-san made him laugh so much he accidentally knocked over the salt shaker, but I think that was when Akaashi-san stepped outside for a call. The second was because he got too invested in his arm-wrestling rematch with Ushijima-san, but the cheering covered up the sound.”

“Why didn’t Akaashi-san just stop the arm-wrestling match before it happened?” Tobio asks him, furrowing his eyebrows.

Hinata gives him a funny look. “Why would he do that?” he says, confused. “Akaashi-san was the one who was cheering for Bokuto-san the loudest in the first match. He just wasn’t there for the second match.”

Tobio blinks. It’s a little strange for him to imagine Akaashi in a situation like that, but he supposes it makes sense, especially if they’re—wait, did he say they were husbands? “Did you know that they were married?” Tobio asks Hinata, surprised. He figures that if anything, Hinata would know about it, wouldn’t he? Bokuto’s always treated him like a disciple of some sort.

“Oh, yeah!” Hinata says cheerfully. “Bokuto-san talks about Akaashi-san all the time! I think they got married last year, but it was a pretty low-key wedding, you know?”

Tobio nods. They seem happy together, and it doesn’t really affect him either way, but it’s—nice. Though he’s never thought of it much for himself, Tobio thinks that being able to spend the rest of your life with someone you love is pretty nice. It would be like having sleep-overs with your best friend but every single night, just talking about whatever and falling asleep to the sound of each other’s breathing—he’d like that, Tobio thinks to himself privately. For a moment, he glances over at Hinata, who’s looking over at Bokuto and Akaashi, the Jackal’s arm around his husband’s waist as they speak to each other quietly and contentedly. Hinata’s eyes are lit up in wonder, with a light smile gracing his lips. Something warm pools in Tobio’s stomach, his heart seizing up with something he can’t name, and he thinks, _oh. I want that with Hinata._

If Miwa were here, she’d probably tell Tobio to confess right on the spot. _Just go for it, would you?_ she’d say, reassuring and impatient at the same time. Tobio swallows, and his hands begin to shake as his heart pounds loudly in his ears. He’s almost done it once before, surely he can try it again.

He looks at Hinata again, listens to the little laugh he breathes out as his attention focuses on a drunk Hoshiumi trying to convince a very disturbed Sakusa to hug him, with Miya Atsumu howling at how uncomfortable he looks. Hinata is shining even under restaurant lights, easily the brightest thing around, his hair catching fire as though he’d been made from summer itself. He’s the sunrise that came into his life, and Tobio wants to be able to watch it rise every day right next to him. Would that be so much to ask for? All he needs to do is actually say it.

But before Tobio can even start to find the words, someone calls Hinata’s name, waving at him to come over. Hinata nods eagerly before turning back to Tobio.

“You wanna come?” Hinata asks him with an easy grin, and Tobio’s starting to believe that no matter how many times Hinata directs a smile at him, he’ll never be able to get used to the way his heart skips a beat. “Don’t wanna leave you all alone or you’ll get all sulky.”

Tobio sputters. “I am not—I don’t sulk!”

Hinata laughs. “Sure you don’t,” he teases back, and Tobio rolls his eyes. “You get all frown-y when you’re left alone at a party.”

“I do not,” Tobio says with a scowl. He’s gotten a whole lot better at socializing, but he doesn’t go looking for opportunities as willingly as Hinata does.

“Then just come with me, would you? So you won’t complain about being lonely,” Hinata tells him, wrapping his fingers around Tobio’s wrist to tug him into standing. Tobio resigns and gets to his feet, but not without grumbling about how he _isn’t lonely_ , which makes Hinata laugh again, and Tobio rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, you aren’t, I know. You can make friends now. But I just wanna hang out with you a little more,” Hinata says, his voice turns a little soft with the last few words. There’s the slightest hint of pink on his cheeks. “So what do you say?”

“You could’ve just said that, dumbass,” Tobio mutters, willing the blush that rises to leave his cheeks. “Didn’t need to say all the other stuff.”

“But where would be the fun in that?” Hinata quips back, a cheeky grin on his face. “It’s funny when you get all riled up.”

“Stupid,” Tobio huffs, annoyed when Hinata successfully dodged the kidney swipe he aims at him—it’s been far too long since he’s actually managed to land a hit, and Hinata moves way too fast these days.

Hinata just laughs brightly, and tugs Tobio along to the other side of the restaurant, where some of the Jackals and Adlers are speaking to each other, bantering with light-hearted chuckles. Hinata dives right into it, quipping something fast and easy towards his captain, making the others laugh. And as the conversation flows along smoothly, Tobio finds himself settling into it quite nicely, offering his own words and finding delight when someone finds what he says funny.

And then there’s this other thing too. Tobio isn’t sure if it’s deliberate or not, but it’s a couple minutes into the conversation when he notices it. It happens whenever Tobio he say anything for a moment, or doesn’t have anything to contribute, but just as he’s starting to grow uncomfortable and trying to come up with the right words to add on, Hinata will chime in and say something that will raise a comment out of him, giving him the opportunity to speak up, even if it’s just to retort or refute something he’d said, or just to call him a dumbass. He’s not sure how or why, but it’s something he’d noticed even back when they were in high school: Hinata’s gentle nudges, his smooth attempts to slip Tobio into conversation. Almost as though he’s making it easier for Tobio to socialize, helping him out in the littlest ways by giving him obvious openings. And like Tobio thought earlier, he’s gotten better at talking to people over the years, but the notion of Hinata doing that for him, even now—it leaves him infinitely grateful. He doesn’t know when Hinata had gotten so good at reading him—looking back, it seems like he’s always been—but it doesn’t make him feel weird or anything. Instead, it gives him a feeling that no matter where he is, he’d always be alright as long as Hinata was with him. Hinata always makes sure that he isn’t lonely—and it’s because of him that Tobio hasn’t been, not for a long time.

He’ll never be able to measure that gratitude in words.

A little while later, after Hinata gets hauled away by Hoshiumi and Bokuto—Hinata looks over at Tobio, a silent question to see if he wants to join, but Tobio shakes his head, under the impression that it’s best not to get involved in whatever antics those three come up with—Tobio finds himself by the end of the restaurant, content with watching everyone else. It’s toned down a bit from earlier, everyone settling into just sharing stories and experiences, a little more softer from the lively energy earlier that night. It’s a little more calming, to see all these people around him, listening to the timbre of different voices fade into one another—he isn’t one usually for crowds, but this is comforting too. It reminds him that he isn’t alone.

He swipes through his phone, looking over at all the pictures from today that have already been posted on social media. Hinata, in particular, has shared several of them—some with his team, a couple with Yamaguchi and Yachi, a few with Tanaka and Sugawara. There’s even two with Tobio in it. (Hinata had sprung out his phone and demanded to take a photo with him, and Tobio had agreed—mostly because he was still recovering from the shock of seeing that Hinata still used the phone case that he gave him years ago, seemingly still in good condition, like he’d taken proper care of it.) He double taps to like them, watching a red heart appear, and keeps on scrolling, reading over the latest volleyball news.

In the middle of a very interesting article entitled _Thirty of the Cutest Cat Pictures You’ll Ever See,_ Tobio sees a figure stop in front of him out of the corner of his eye. He looks up from his phone a moment later, and meets the sunny smile of Sugawara, looking as mischievous and gleeful as he was at eighteen. Tobio wonders if he really is psychic.

“Kageyama! I haven’t been able to speak to you all night,” Sugawara says with a grin, putting his hands on his hips. “How have you been?”

He shrugs. “Fine,” he answers simply. His muscles are a little sore from today’s game, but it’s nothing a good night’s sleep won’t be able to fix. “What about you, Suga-san?”

“Good, good,” he says easily. “The kids I’m teaching are a little wild sometimes, but it’s nothing that I can’t handle, not after having you guys as kouhai.”

Tobio flushes. “Sorry about that,” he says with a slight wince.

Sugawara waves him off dismissively. “Don’t apologize,” he says kindly. “There’s no other way I would’ve wanted to spend my last year of high school, and you know it.” He flashes Tobio another smile. “By the way, your pork curry commercial—”

Tobio groans, feeling his face heat up in embarrassment. “I just did what they told me to!”

Sugawara laughs, clapping Tobio on the shoulder. It goes on like that for a while, with Sugawara’s lilting teases, and Tobio trying to keep up with the mortifying stories the older man takes delight in reminiscing. Sugawara had always been one of Tobio’s favorite senpais, as strange as he was, mostly because he was always kind and understanding towards him. He never resented him for taking his starting spot—instead, he’d helped fill what Tobio lacked in experience, and was never one to hold back on techniques and skills that he could pass down to his kouhai. It’s how Tobio’s sure that Sugawara’s excellent at his teaching job—he’s patient, and waits for you to come around on your own.

Sugawara breathes out a sigh, his eyes twinkling in amusement and fondness. “Man, do you remember that time you and Hinata got lost in Tokyo? That first night of Nationals?”

Tobio grimaces at the memory. The two of them had gone out on a run with Tsukishima to watch over them on a bike, but their competitive streak had taken over, causing them to each lose their way. Tsukishima had managed a way to get them all back in one piece, of course, and the story had caused all their other teammates to laugh once they’d all gotten back.

“It was his fault, not mine,” Tobio grumbles, and Sugawara chuckles, a light and gentle sound.

Sugawara hums, pleased. “Speaking of Hinata, have you seen him around?” he asks, his eyes glancing around the room.

Tobio does the same, surveying the area for a familiar head of orange. It takes him a moment, but then there Hinata is—caught up in a conversation with the other Jackals. The light catches on his hair, turning it golden, the freckles on his cheeks prominent on sun-kissed skin, eyes lit up like a campfire, and he’s laughing at whatever Bokuto is saying, blissfully happy. The sound carries itself all the way to where Tobio is standing, and his heart fills with the sound of it, his favorite song. Hinata looks so beautiful, Tobio thinks, his breath caught in his throat. He looks like a painting in motion, and it takes him back to high school, when all he could do was stare and try to photograph him in the light, memorize the way everything seemed to blur around him, turning him into the main focus. Tobio thinks that this is what it means to be in love with the sun.

Then, to his surprise, Hinata turns his head, his eyes catching on Tobio’s, like he’d gone to glance at him too. Tobio feels his cheeks warm from being caught, but Hinata only grins at him, toothy and big, and waves at him with a hand. Tobio feels his heart stutter, and he brings up his own hand to wave back, a small smile rising to his lips.

“ _Oh_ ,” Sugawara says suddenly, and Tobio turns his attention back to his senpai. He’s instantly greeted by the mischievous glint in Sugawara’s eyes, and the familiarity of it instantly lets Tobio know that he’s definitely up to something. “I see.”

Here it goes. “What?”

Sugawara smiles, that sly, secretive one that frustrates Tobio when he can’t understand the reasoning behind it. “I assume you’ve figured it out then,” he says vaguely. “Back when I approached you about it, you didn’t seem to know what I was talking about.”

In that instant, his confusion melts away and gives into understanding. Tobio remembers the first time Sugawara had been infuriatingly cryptic with him—a slip in time when he’d gotten caught staring at Hinata. Tobio’s face turns hot. “I did,” he says, averting his eyes. “I figured it out eventually.”

“And?” Sugawara prompts, cocking an eyebrow in expectation.

“And my life’s been shit ever since,” Tobio deadpans, and Sugawara throws his head back to burst out in laughter, clutching his stomach. It catches some attention, and Tobio blushes furiously—even Hinata glances at him with concern written on his face—and tries to shush his senpai.

“Sorry, sorry,” Sugawara says, traces of mirth still in his tone. “Well, I take it that means you haven’t told him yet?”

“No,” Tobio answers. There’s that creeping feeling again, causing his heart to beat fast. He wants to tell Hinata, and he’s _going_ to—eventually. “I was—I was thinking about it.”

“So you’re planning to?” Sugawara says, his curiosity undeniably piqued as he leans forward.

Tobio nods wordlessly. He’s already made up his mind about it. Now that the match is over, and Hinata’s beaten him—there’s no reason for him not to. He’s still a little worried about how their friendship will survive through it, but he has a feeling they’ll be able to overcome it, if it comes to that. It’s not like he’s asking Hinata to return his feelings—he just wants to tell his best friend about his own. He just wants to be honest.

“Then what are you waiting for?” Sugawara asks. He gestures over to where Hinata is with a tilt of his head. “He’s right there, isn’t he?”

“What—I can’t tell him that now!” he exclaims, before realizing how loud he’d been, and lowering his voice. “Now isn’t the time for that.”

“Kageyama,” Sugawara says, patient but insistent. “Haven’t you waited long enough?”

And of course Tobio has waited. _Of course he has._ He’s been doing it his whole life, but this—this isn’t a matter that should be taken lightly. Confessions—they’re supposed to be grand and poetic and practiced. Not like the way he’d do it now; they’re not supposed to be messy or spontaneous or unprepared. If he wants to do them right—and he wants to be able to do them right, after all this time— he needs to plan it carefully. He needs to count his steps, figure out all the different ways it could go and follow the best route. He needs to prepare for the worst to cushion his fall. He doesn’t dare hope for the best—that would just be too much to ask for. But he needs to be ready. He can’t leave it up to the moment.

“I can’t.” Tobio shakes his head, exhaling a deep breath. “Not now.”

“Then when?” Sugawara tells him. “If you keep coming up with excuses, you’ll never find the right moment.”

“But I don’t want—I already know I’m going to do it, but it just can’t be today,” Tobio says, his hands shaking a little. “Today’s already been so much, and he looks so happy that I can’t—” He inhales sharply. “I can’t ruin today for him. It means too much for him. For both of us.”

After a moment, Sugawara nods. He wears understanding on his smile, and reassurance in the soft clap of his hand on Tobio’s shoulder. “I understand,” he says kindly. “I’m sure that you’ll be able to do it. Maybe it’ll be even sweeter than you realize.”

Tobio smiles weakly.

“And whatever happens, or however you do it,” he adds, gentle and soft. “I’m proud of you. You’ve come a long way from that little arrogant kid who had a hard time expressing himself. It’s not your fault, of course, and it’s taken some time, but look at you now.” Sugawara smiles. “Being honest is a lot harder than people realize,” he says. “But you’ve always been good at it.”

Tobio smiles at him. His throat closes up, and he can’t find the words to say, so he just steps into the hug that Sugawara offers him. It’s comforting to hear, and Tobio breathes in the relief of Sugawara’s confidence in him. There isn’t a single part of him that isn’t nervous about the whole ordeal, and he’s going to have to plan out his words so that he doesn’t stumble when he’s trying to tell Hinata of his feelings, but he’ll get it done. He’ll get it right.

He spends the rest of the night listening to Sugawara’s stories about his students, about the kids who remind of himself and his friends. There’s even a kid he likens to Tsukishima, and Tobio finds himself snickering at that. He even talks to Yachi at one point, catching up with her tales from work and studies, and Yamaguchi complains about his classes to a very dramatic—but valid, in Tobio’s opinion—and lengthy degree. Shimizu offers Tobio a glass of water, when they talk about the latest products from the sports store she works at, and he promises to come by to check it out some time. All in all, Tobio has a really good time just catching up with everyone and listening about how the world looks like to them, outside the realm of volleyball but still closely tied. He’s glad that they’re all here, and that he’d come.

When it’s nearing midnight, most have already begun to take their leave, saying their goodbyes and making promises to meet up again soon. Everyone trickles out slowly until there’s only a couple of them left, and as the hands of the clock tick by like a reminder of the growing night, Tobio takes it as his own cue to leave. He’s one of the last few left, so it doesn’t take him long to go around and offer his own goodbyes, gathering up his things. Hoshiumi waves at him widely, Atsumu whistles in acknowledgement, and Akaashi nods at him. He’s just about to head out the door when a voice calls out to him, stopping him in his tracks.

“Kageyama, wait up! I’ll come with you!” Hinata calls out, rushing as he grabs his own belongings. He’s got a jacket tucked under his arm, his phone clutched in his hand. He turns around to briefly yell, “Bye, everyone!” and receiving warm replies in return.

Hinata looks back at Tobio, grinning. “Where’re you headed?”

Tobio pushes the door open, allowing Hinata to step through before he does, into the cold night air. He wraps his scarf tighter around his neck, the chill breeze cooling his insides as winter starts to come around. “The bus station,” he tells Hinata. “The team’s staying at a hotel nearby.”

“Oh, same here!” Hinata replies, nodding. He rubs at his arms, and under the luminous moonlight, Tobio can make out the goosebumps on his skin. “It’s really cold, huh?” he says with a lopsided grin.

“Wear your jacket, dumbass,” Tobio says, pointing to the cloth he’s got in his arms. “So you don’t freeze to death.”

“I’m not gonna—” Hinata slips the fabric over his head, pushing his arms through the sleeves, “—freeze to death, dummy.”

And as Hinata looks up at him once more, his hair a little mussed from putting the hoodie over his head, Tobio realizes something very vital, causing his heart to jump right into his throat: that Hinata isn’t just wearing any hoodie—it’s _Tobio’s_ hoodie. He recognizes it instantly—it’s one Hinata brought with him to Brazil, and the one Tobio had allowed him to keep.

And keep it Hinata has, and he’s wearing it right now. It had been heart-stopping for Tobio to see Hinata in it through a pixelated screen, but to see him wearing it now, in real life and several months later, it’s something else entirely.

(Distantly, Tobio thinks—first, it was the phone case. Now, it’s the hoodie. What else has Hinata kept that Tobio’s given him?)

Fortunately, Hinata doesn’t seem to realize, and Tobio looks away before he’s caught staring. He keeps his eyes on the ground before him, watching for the cracks in the sidewalk, trying to focus on anything else but the boy next to him. He shouldn’t be overthinking this in the first place. He’d given it to Hinata; it doesn’t belong to him anymore, so he really shouldn’t be fussing over it.

Tobio sneaks a glance on him. It does look good on him, though.

“Is it true you called Sakusa-san plain when you first met him?” Hinata asks him suddenly, looking up at Tobio with equal parts curiosity and amusement. “I know you can be dense sometimes, Kageyama, but that was a pretty low blow.”

He wills the blush creeping up his neck away. “I was sixteen,” Tobio says defensively, crossing his arms. “And it’s not my fault. How was I supposed to know he was good if I’d never seen him play before?”

Hinata just breathes out a soft laugh. “Of course it isn’t,” he teases, and Tobio just rolls his eyes.

“Did he tell you that?” he asks.

“Nah,” Hinata answers. He’s doing that thing again—trying to walk in a straight line on the edge of the sidewalk, one foot carefully placed in front of the other. “Atsumu-san did. We watched your pork curry commercial earlier too.” He shoots Tobio a toothy grin, before pushing his fringe down. “ _Power curry is a service ace,”_ he says in monotone, a cheap impression, keeping hold of his expression for a moment. Then, he bursts out into laughter.

Tobio scowls and aims at him. Hinata dodges, still cackling.

“Shut up,” he grumbles. “I already had enough of that from Suga-san earlier.”

Hinata snickers even more, not bothering to hide his glee. Tucking his hands behind his back, still walking in that invisible straight line. He hums, before leaning against Tobio closer, nudging him with his elbow. “So?” he says, raising an eyebrow. “What’d you think?”

Tobio looks at him in confusion. “Think about what?”

“Suga-san!” Hinata explains. He lowers his voice, glancing around suspiciously. There’s no one around them. “Do you think he’s still psychic? Or if he ever was?”

Tobio shrugs. He’s fairly certain that Sugawara isn’t, not really, and that he’s just good at observing. But the man has always been a little weird, so he wouldn’t put it past him. “Honestly? I’m not sure,” Tobio answers. “He seemed normal? Or as normal as he can be. You know how he is.”

Hinata hums, placid. “It’s too bad we never got an explanation to the stuff he was telling you about back then,” he says, and Tobio makes it a point to look away. He knows he agreed to tell Hinata if he ever figured it out, but just as he said earlier—now isn’t the time to reveal it.

Tobio glances over at Hinata, tongue sticking out as he balances himself on his imaginary tightrope. You’d think he would’ve grown out of the childish habit by now, but it’s strangely endearing, in Tobio’s opinion. Like Hinata’s never let go of his younger self—only added new layers on top of it, built stronger and sturdier now. Tobio likes to think he’s still the same, that his sixteen-year-old self is still somewhere within him—and if there’s anything they still have in common, from then and now, it’s the way their hearts still have an affliction for Hinata Shouyou. Maybe that’ll never change.

“Hey, speaking of things we never figured out,” Hinata says, and the way he looks at Tobio is grounded in neutrality, like he’s searching for something on Tobio’s face, but the setter isn’t sure what it might be. “What was that thing you were supposed to tell me before I left?”

“Oh,” Tobio says, his pulse quickening. He can’t—he just said he wasn’t ready. He scrambles for an excuse, averting his eyes as his face turns pink under the night sky. “I don’t—”

“You promised you would tell me,” Hinata says, his voice gentle and kind, patient like he could wait his whole life for it. Tobio hopes that’s true, or that he’d at least wait for Tobio to be ready to let it out. He adds softly, “You can tell me.”

“Do you mind—could you wait a little longer? Just a little bit more,” Tobio says, halfway desperate, unsure what to do with his hands. Hinata opens his mouth to speak, but Tobio cuts him off, “I _will_ tell you. I’m not going back on that promise. Just—not now.”

Hinata stares at him for a moment. A flicker of emotions passes through him—confusion, for the most part—before he nods once, twice. Understanding. Acceptance. “Okay,” he says, and Tobio lets out the breath he didn’t know he was holding. “Okay. I’ll wait.”

“Thank you,” Tobio says quietly.

“But once you’re ready,” Hinata says, looking straight at Tobio, a deep seriousness set into his eyes. It’s a little scary, like he knows what Tobio wants to tell him—but he can’t possibly know that, can he? No, Tobio’s made sure of it. He’s never said anything like that to him. “You’ll tell me?”

Tobio nods. “I will,” he says sincerely. Then, because he can’t really help himself, he asks, “Why do you—why do you want to know so badly?” _Why does it matter to you so much? Why do you want to know what I almost said?_

Hinata looks surprised at the question, blinking. Then he smiles, simple and easy like the moon above them, before shrugging his shoulders. “Because you looked like you really wanted to tell me,” Hinata says. “And it’s important to you, right?”

His heart is pounding. “Yeah.”

“Then it’s important to me too,” Hinata says. “I’ll wait, and you can take as much time as you need.” He grins, and with his next words he looks right at Tobio, his sunset eyes glowing in the dark. “I’ll still be here.”

And _oh_ , that’s familiar, isn’t it?

Hinata doesn’t say anything more about it after that. He picks the conversation back up by rambling on about something Hoshiumi told him earlier, like if seagulls were better than crows, or how extensive and large his marble collection was. Tobio didn’t even know that people collected marbles. Hinata proceeds to argue that his own postcard collection is leagues better, and Tobio doesn’t really know anything to not agree with him, so he just nods along.

Hinata stops walking in that straight line of his when they have to turn a corner, so he keeps his feet busy by kicking a pebble as he talks. Tobio contributes when it rolls over to his side, kicking it as they both go, like a game they’ve played many times before. There’s even a moment when their hands brush from how close they’re standing—Tobio freezes when it happens, stiffening, but Hinata isn’t looking at him, so he wills himself to relax. The second time catches him just as off-guard, and his fingers twitch by his side. These brief touches—Tobio’s long since tried to convince himself that they were enough, but sometimes he can’t hold the urge down, and he finds himself wanting to reach out and grab Hinata’s hand, and press their palms together. It would be so easy, wouldn’t it? He’s imagined this a million times before, and he thinks of a world where he could have it. Where this is something he can keep.

Tobio’s going to try. He said it before, that he was going to try to make this love. He’s going to try harder than ever before.

Hinata’s humming a tune under his breath as they walk, pointing out random things that he sees every once in a while. Tobio listens to Hinata, the way he pronounces out his words, a few _gwah’s_ and _pwah’s_ here and there, expressions that he hasn’t grown out of. It’s comforting, just listening to the lilt of his voice, warm even in the cold air. Tobio thinks he could listen to it forever.

And then, it comes to him, the realization of why he’s so at ease with all of this. It’s because this is all more familiar than anything else. Walking home together, side by side, with the evening on their shoulders. It’s obviously a lot later than they used to, but it feels the same nonetheless, and Tobio thinks back to a time he’d thought that this was something he’d lose after graduation—he’s never been happier to be wrong.

“Hey,” Tobio says suddenly, pausing. He can see the bus stop up ahead. There’s one scheduled to arrive soon.

Hinata stops walking when he notices that Tobio has, turning to look at him, his head tilting in confusion. “Yeah?”

“You were…” Tobio starts to say, and he shifts his weight to his other foot uncomfortably. It’s something he’d thought to say during the match, and he’d tried to find a way to say it after, but the words never found their proper pacing. But now, as his heart knocks steadily against his chest, Tobio thinks that they finally have. “You were amazing. Today, during the game. You were amazing.”

In an instant, Hinata’s eyes light up like a wildfire, his cheeks dusting with pink, and then he’s running up to Tobio to tackle him in a hug, his arms coming around Tobio’s waist tightly. Tobio stumbles with the force, before steadying himself back on his feet, hesitantly placing his own arms around Hinata, unsure where to put his hands.

Hinata looks up at him, his smile wobbly. “You—!” he says, and he looks so radiant and bright, undone by Tobio’s simple admission, and it knocks the air right out of Tobio’s lungs. “You finally said it! I can’t believe this!” He breathes out a laugh. “Heh. I always did tell you I was pretty great.”

Usually, this would be the part where Tobio rolls his eyes and calls Hinata a dumbass, but this time, something compels him to do it differently, be more honest. Instead, he focuses on Hinata, feels a soft smile rise unwittingly to his lips, and says, “Yeah. You are.”

And Hinata blinks, surprised at the lack of a retort and the finding of a genuine compliment instead. His face turns red, and his mouth opens before closing, as though he’s unsure of what to say. “Stupid,” he mumbles after a while, averting his eyes. “It wasn’t so hard to say it now, was it?”

“It _was_ pretty hard,” Tobio says, an attempt to lighten the air between them—it works, and Hinata rolls his eyes with a scoff. They step out of the embrace, still hovering close to each other. Tobio looks at his watch. “The bus will be there in a few minutes. We should get going.”

“Yeah,” Hinata says. His eyebrows are furrowed as he bites his lip, like he’s thinking hard about something. In the next moment, he blows out a breath, and looks straight at Tobio. Wordlessly, he takes Tobio’s hand and holds it, lacing their fingers together. Their hands fit together perfectly, Tobio thinks, a little frozen as sirens go off in the heat of his heart. He feels he’s lost all the air in his lungs.

“Is this…” Hinata says, voice small and unsure. His face is pink. “Is this okay?”

Miraculously, Tobio manages to speak. “Yeah,” he croaks out, grimacing at the crack in his voice. “Yeah, it’s—” _everything I’ve ever wanted,_ “—fine.”

Hinata smiles at him softly, gentle under the moonlight, and Tobio aches when he squeezes their hands together. He doesn’t dare ask for more—this is already so much, and he’s incredibly overwhelmed. He hopes that his hands aren’t too sweaty. He hopes Hinata won’t mind that they definitely are. Tobio sneaks a glance of him—he’s still smiling, small and content, wholly unbothered, so Tobio’s in the clear. He forces himself to relax, feeling the grooves and calluses of Hinata’s palm against his own, and lets himself drown in the warmth. There’s not an inch of him that’s cold anymore.

They stay like that all the way to the bus stop, hands pressed together, and Tobio takes in every second of it. _Don’t you see?_ he thinks to himself. _This could be yours to keep._ If he is honest, if he tells Hinata, he may be able to have this. Maybe he could have more of it. Maybe he’d be able to hold Hinata’s hand for longer, enough to count the freckles on his shoulders and arms and on the back of his hands, create new constellations and hold the galaxies in his palms. This is a reminder of what it’ll take for him to get there, to this wondrous possibility of what he could have, and Tobio swallows it down, and remembers it. _Look at what you could have._

There’s a chance—infinitesimal as it is, but a chance nonetheless—that could have this, simply if he tells Hinata Shouyou the truth. All it would take are three words strung together, held back for so long, finally coming out of him to see the sunlight. He just needs to be able to say them. Hinata just needs to hear them.

He can do it. He’ll find a way.

As the bus rounds the corner and stops in front of them with a sputtering halt, Tobio breathes deeply, and holds Hinata’s hand a little tighter, clinging on for as long as he can.

On the bus, Hinata takes the seat next to Kageyama without a moment’s hesitation. They sit the same way that they live: side by side, the space between them gradually decreasing, until their shoulders touch, and they meet each other halfway, right in the middle.

“—think yer some hot shot, don’t ya? Just ‘cause yer always so cool and unbothered, and ya never even smile, like nothin’ ever affects you, and ya never even _listen_ to me—”

“I’ll listen when you have something worth saying,” Sakusa interrupts with a huff, eyes narrowed. “And so far, there hasn’t been any.”

Atsumu scowls, taking a step forward and jabbing a pointer finger to Sakusa’s chest. “Yer one to talk, always goin’ on and on about those stupid science documentaries—”

“And you’re always talking about yourself! Do you realize just how impossibly vain you are? You hog the mirror for thirty minutes! And your hair, _god_ , it’s ridiculous just how much time you spend on it, I’m surprised you haven’t gone bald with how much products you use—”

“Excuse me, this is all natural, thank you _very much—”_

“Your hair is _bleached,_ how is that natural—”

“And what, yer so much more good-lookin’? Is that it?”

“You’re impossible, that’s what—”

“Should we be trying to stop them?” Meian asks, his voice low as he glances over at Atsumu and Sakusa, still firing sharp insults back and forth.

“Nah,” Inunaki says, leaning against his locker with a shrug. “They’re always like this, aren’t they? They’ll kiss and make up eventually.”

“They’ve been like that ever since the match ended,” Shouyou speaks up, folding up his jersey and placing it into his bag. He swipes the zipper, closing it shut. “Did something happen?”

“They were trying to beat each other in serve count. Sakusa won, it seems,” Meian answers with a half-shrug.

“You know, I think they actually _like_ arguing,” Inunaki says with humor laced in his tone. “Maybe they thrive on annoying each other.”

Meian hums, thoughtful. “They’re unexpected, that’s what they are. Times like these make you forget that they do get along well sometimes,” he comments, a little exasperated. “Miya’s always making sure that Sakusa gets bottled water instead of the kind in cups. And have you guys noticed he’s been washing his hands more?”

“Seems very considerate of him, don’t you think?” Inunaki adds, sneaking another glance at the two. Shouyou follows his line of vision—they’re still bickering, but it seems to have simmered down a little, at least.

“Oh! Keiji’s like that too!” Bokuto exclaims, his eyes lighting up, as happy as he always is when he gets to bring up his husband in a conversation. Shouyou thinks it’s very sweet. “He’s really considerate, and helps me with a whole lot of things! Like doing taxes, since they’re so confusing, and sometimes he shares his onigiri with me when I’m having a bad day, even when those are his favorite.”

“That’s really nice, Bokuto-san,” Shouyou tells him, grinning.

“Of course he is,” Inunaki says with a teasing smile. “We all know you’re in a happy, perfect, and committed relationship. No need to rub it in.”

Bokuto just beams. “Well, it’s not always easy sometimes, you know? Sometimes we fight, but it always works out.”

“Think it’ll work out for those two then?” Meian asks, gesturing over to Sakusa and Atsumu. To everyone’s relief, they’re not really arguing with each other anymore—seemingly having been able to set on a compromise—and Sakusa is tapping his foot on the floor as he waits for Atsumu to finish packing his things. Once he’s done, they both announce their goodbyes before heading out of the locker room together.

“Definitely,” Bokuto says with confidence. “They just need more time to get used to each other, that’s all. A little patience and work, as I always say. Even the roughest starts can still have beautiful things at the end of it.” He grins. “Like me and Keiji!”

“Yeah, we’ll just have to see about that, won’t we?” Inunaki says. He pushes himself off the locker, and slings his bag over his shoulder. Shooting them a mock two-finger salute, he heads towards the door, and adds, “I’ll be taking my leave too. See you guys tomorrow.”

Meian follows shortly after, until it’s just Shouyou and Bokuto left in the locker room. Bokuto’s humming under his breath, one of the songs that’s stationed at the top of the charts these days, as he arranges his belongings.

Shouyou ties his shoelaces, seated on the bench. He thinks about what Bokuto said, his words lingering in Shouyou’s mind. Then, without much further thought, he says, “Bokuto-san? Can I ask you something?”

Bokuto stops to look at him, relaxed and simple. “Sure,” he replies with a little smile. “Ask away, young disciple.”

The sentiment comforts Shouyou—he’s never really had a hard time talking to Bokuto about anything, mostly because they’re alike in a whole lot of ways. He’s incredibly earnest too, and he never holds back, which helps a lot.

He bites the inside of his cheek. Resting his chin on his knee, he takes a deep breath. “Did you mean what you said earlier?” Shouyou asks, a little hesitant. “About rough starts being okay?”

Bokuto blinks, considering. “Yeah,” he answers simply after a moment. “How it begins doesn’t matter as long as you’re working on getting a better ending.”

“Oh,” Shouyou says, slumping forward a little bit. He thinks about him and Kageyama, and the seven years that have taken place before today. Has he really known Kageyama for that long? Would it still be okay then, to still ask for something new? To disrupt what they already have going? He already decided that he would confess, but he’s not quite sure how to approach it. He wants it to be gentle, but he’s also never been the type to do anything halfway.

“Bokuto-san,” Shouyou calls quietly. “How did you know when to confess to Akaashi-san? How did you know when it was the right time?”

“Hm,” Bokuto says, and he settles his bag down on the bench next to Shouyou, thinking to himself and combing through old memories. He blows out a breath. “To be honest,” he says, laughing softly as he rubs the back of his neck. “I didn’t think about it. I kinda just—Keiji was standing there, and I just blurted it all out.”

“So you didn’t have a plan?” Shouyou asks, knitting his eyebrows together. “Nothing?”

“Nope,” Bokuto says with a cheeky smile. “I just told him plain and simple that I really liked him.”

“But how—” Shouyou falters, and the slightest hunts of frustration prick at the back of his neck. “How did you do that? How could you be so sure that he—how did you know that it would work out?”

“I didn’t,” Bokuto says.

“Then how did you get the courage to say it?” he asks, a little more insistently. Could it really be that easy? Maybe for someone like Bokuto, because he’s always been a spur-of-the-moment kind of guy, but this is something Shouyou’s carried with him for years. That can’t be all there is to it, right?

Bokuto settles down into the spot next to Shouyou. His gaze is softer now, his eyes gleaming with a faraway look, as though he’s revisiting his high school days. When he speaks, his voice is gentle, dreamlike, “It was kinda like—you know how they say ‘when you know, you’ll know’? Well, that’s what happened for me. I just knew.” He breathes out an easy laugh. “And I thought to myself, why would I bother waiting around if I already knew that Keiji was the person I wanted to spend the rest of my life with? I didn’t want to have to wonder if we missed out on each other just ‘cause I was too chicken to say anything. So I just told him.”

He smiles. “Of course it terrified me to say it, but it was worth it. Sometimes you just gotta jump. Just let yourself take the fall, you know?”

Shouyou releases a shaky breath. He’s been thinking about the fall his whole life.

Bokuto claps a hand on his shoulder, and heartily laughs. “It’s always different for everyone,” he tells Shouyou. “But that’s just how it went for me. And how it’ll go for you and Kageyama… Well, that part’s up to you.”

He snaps his head up. “Me and Kageyama?”

Bokuto tilts his head, confused. “Oh. Is it…not Kageyama?”

Shouyou’s face turns hot. “No—I mean, yes, it is, but how did you…?”

Bokuto just laughs, and jumps to his feet, slinging the strap of his bag over his shoulder. “Who else would it be?” he says with a sharp grin. “Honestly, I thought you guys were together already.”

“What?” he squeaks.

“I’m sure it’ll work out, Hinata,” he says cheerfully, the confidence in his voice sure and grounding. “You and Kageyama—even back in high school, you two were always known for doing the impossible.” His phone chimes, and Bokuto reads over the message, his face lighting up. “It’s Keiji. I gotta go. It’s date night!”

Shouyou smiles at him, still reeling from the revelation that even Bokuto had picked up on his feelings for Kageyama. Maybe they’re even more alike than he’d previously thought. “Have fun!” he says.

Bokuto shoots him one more grin before exiting the locker room, back to humming that pop song, a skip in his step as Shouyou watches him leave.

With a deep sigh, Shouyou thinks back to Bokuto’s words. _When you know, you’ll know._ Could it be possible that if it had been true for Bokuto, it can be true for him too? Maybe—if he just tells Kageyama the moment it feels right, would that be a good way to do it? He’ll have to build up to it, of course, so he doesn’t overwhelm Kageyama, and well, Shouyou’s always has a knack for improvisation, hasn’t he? He’s always trusted his gut, acted before he thought, so maybe it’ll work that way this time around.

It’s been a few weeks since he’d seen Kageyama, though, since the season started, keeping them both busy with their respective games. And if Shouyou has any idea of how he wants it to go, then he wants to be able to say it to Kageyama’s face. He feels like it’ll be better that way. He feels like it’ll be more honest like that.

Which just leaves him to wait for the right moment to come. And if Bokuto’s right, then the timing and setting won’t really matter, not if he’s being true to his words. And Shouyou has no intention not to be. Not this time.

Fishing his phone out of his pocket, Shouyou sends out a text to Kageyama. Though it’s a lot better now that they’re in the same time zone, he still misses his best friend, and he can’t wait until they can see each other again. He might have his heart in his throat by then, hands shaking as he works up the nerve to confess, but it’ll be worth it, won’t it? To finally be honest about this whole thing. Isn’t that a special kind of bravery on its own?

He inhales deeply, before letting it go. He can do this. It’ll work out. It’s not too late.

> To: Kageyama
> 
> _if you could be any animal in the world, what would you be?_
> 
> From: Kageyama
> 
> _Will I still be able to play volleyball?_
> 
> To: Kageyama
> 
> _what no theyre animals dummy_
> 
> From: Kageyama
> 
> _Then a cat, I guess._
> 
> To: Kageyama
> 
> _awww that’s so cute_
> 
> From: Kageyama
> 
> _Shut up. What would you be_
> 
> To: Kageyama
> 
> _a crow obviously!!!!!_
> 
> To: Kageyama
> 
> _but i think being a dolphin would be pretty cool too!!!_
> 
> From: Kageyama
> 
> _Of course you would_

The tiny bell above the door tinkles, chiming a soft and pleasant sound as Shouyou steps out of the shop. The strong and sweet smell of coffee and milk leaves him in exchange for the fresh spring air, and he breathes it into his lungs, sharp and crisp. The cherry blossom trees are full and pink as he walks by them, the sky a clear and flat blue. Songbirds hop in small bounces on the sidewalk before taking off in flight, twittering in the leaves and redirecting the white-gold sunbeams filtering onto the pavement. As he passes a small park, he hears the laughter of children, spilling out of them like the promise of never-ending summers. It relaxes him.

The streets get more busy as he heads closer to the heart of the city, the buildings tall and towering over him. Skyscrapers line up the road one after the other, while smaller apartments remain tucked in between the alleyways. The bustle keeps his ears busy, buzzing and thrumming, thousands of heartbeats pulsing in the same area. Even in the daytime, there are flashing lights, huge billboards that dazzle with sparkles and wide screens fastened to the walls, commercials replaying over and over. Cars beep and honk in an attempt to diffuse the traffic, speeding through the smooth road while the streetlights signal for pedestrians to stop or keep moving. Shouyou is one of them—he walks quickly, trying not to get too lost in the crowd, his feet keeping him on track to his destination.

It still strikes him sometimes, how different cities can be. Shouyou had grown up in a small town where most people knew each other, where there were hills to climb and expansive meadows and fields and rivers to run along to. But here, somewhere in Osaka, full of commerce and life, there’s always something to see or do, and the nightlife is even more exquisite. In comparison to the soft evenings he’d spent with the crickets and their songs, this city never seems to sleep, always in a constant state of movement. It’s not bad, of course, but when he’d first come to stay, it had been a little bit jarring. Not as hard as it had been to adjust to staying in Rio, but it had still been a change nonetheless, and it had caught him just the slightest bit off-guard. But if he’s learned anything the last two years, it’s that he’s always been a quick learner anyway.

He checks the time on his phone. _2:43_. He’s still got enough time to get to the train station and board the one he needs, and the crowd thickens the closer he gets. Busy people and their busy lives, just trying to get to where they should be. He’s not all that different, except that he’s trying to get home. It shouldn’t be long now.

Shouyou’s already on the platform when the train zooms by, hurtling to a stop as the brakes squeak loudly, the sound resounding throughout the station. The doors slide open, and people slip out, strangers he might never see again, and Shouyou takes his own step in. He sits closely by the door, and looks out the window as the train hurtles on, blending trees and buildings and houses. They even pass through a tunnel once, the world going dark for just a couple of moments, before the light spills back in, overwhelming them and dispelling all the shadows.

It’s not a very long trip, and Shouyou hears the announcement for his stop not too many minutes after. A few people rise from their seats as he does, high schoolers and adults and elderly, hovering by the door as the train begins to slow down and the next station comes into full view, people waiting on the other side. Shouyou steps out as the doors open, trying not to bump into people as he tries to leave, noticing how much more crowded it is here. It takes him a couple minutes, but he manages all the same, keeping his eyes open for the street signs and the direction homebound.

And as he finally steps out of the train station, the first thing that greets him is a large billboard, bright yellow and awfully eye-catching, Kageyama Tobio’s face plastered onto it as he does another ad for pork curry.

Shouyou stares at it, stilling for the briefest of seconds. Like Kageyama’s last commercial, he’s got a bowl of pork curry held in one hand and a pair of chopsticks in the other, promoting the product with flourishing simplicity. _Power curry is a service ace,_ it reads in simple block letters. It’s not much different from the other one, really, except this is obviously a still image. However, unlike Kageyama’s last commercial, his face isn’t neutral with a single-minded determination to eat his way through the ad. Instead, he’s caught midway-expression, a half-smile just beginning to rise his lips, obviously pleased as the edges tug upwards, a crescent moon in the making. He looks _happy_ , and Shouyou knows that the reason behind it is obviously his favorite food, but it still manages to steal his breath for a second too long. Shouyou thinks it’s probably just a lucky shot, since Kageyama doesn’t smile all that often—but when he does, the result never fails to be absolutely breathtaking. Shouyou knows that firsthand; he knows it more than anyone.

(And just for the tiniest fraction of a second, Shouyou feels like he’s in Rio again, standing in front of a television screen and staring at the boy who had taken all the little pieces of his heart without even knowing it.)

Shouyou inhales sharply, feeling that odd pang in his chest again and wills it away. It isn’t like back then anymore—this time he’s actually going to do something about it. He’s going to get it done, and he’ll do it right. He’s thought over what Bokuto told him a million times, and he’d been right—there’s only one way to find out. He doesn’t want to miss out on any more of this than he already has—if there’s a chance, if there’s any chance at all, then he’s willing to take it.

There’s something Yachi had told him too, back when he met up with her a few days ago. He’d asked her what she thought about it, and she told him to go for it. That it’s not like they were certain Kageyama still liked that other person from high school, and even if he did, Shouyou had said that all he wanted to do was tell Kageyama anyway. He’s not hoping for something grand, or for something revolutionary. He just wants to be able to tell Kageyama how he feels. And whether that ends up with them in a relationship or not…

Well, Shouyou’s not going to hope for too much. That’ll have to depend on Kageyama. And if it’s not mutual, then that will just have to be the end of it, and he’ll have to learn to move on. It’ll be difficult and painful and excruciating, but he’d also figured that at this point, with how far they’ve come, it’s better than living with a _what if_ for the rest of his life, just wondering how it would’ve gone. Just like how he’s always done with volleyball—it’s better to try and fail than to never attempt it at all. And whatever the outcome will be, he’ll be there ready to accept it. He’ll be okay the way they are now—as best friends who know each other better than anyone else, who have seen each other at their best and worst and still stick around. It’ll be enough for him. To be like _that_ with Kageyama would be nice, but it isn’t everything. He’s already happy that Kageyama is in his life in the first place. He’s not going to ask for some whirlwind romance—but would it be too much, instead, to ask for just a little bit of love?

(But Shouyou will admit—of course he wants to be with Kageyama. He’s dreamed of it for years. He remembers the way they’d held hands on the way to the bus station after the game, how it was almost like his hands were made to hold Kagegama’s, fitting perfectly against each other—and he aches. He wants more of that, and the idea of there being a shot or just the slimmest possibility of having more—it’s enough for him to be willing to try.)

So telling Kageyama—it’s the first step to rewriting this whole mess. Shouyou wants there to be love in it, more than anything else, and for that to be, he needs to take that first step and let his own love spill into somewhere that Kageyama can see it. It’ll mean swallowing his fear, turning his back on all the years he’d spent repressing it, and letting his mouth form the words into something palpable. It’ll mean that he finally has to say it out loud, and Kageyama will be there to witness it.

 _If I did see someone that way,_ Kageyama had said back then, _I’d want them to know me. I’d want them to know me well enough that they know what it really means when they say it._

And isn’t Shouyou the person who knows him best? Hasn’t he always loved Kageyama?

With a heavy exhale, Shouyou rolls his shoulders back and holds his head up high. Then he takes his phone out of his pocket, dials a number still familiar to him after all this time, and presses it close to his ear.

The line clicks. “Hinata?”

“Kageyama, hey!” Shouyou says, staring at the billboard with defiance and determination. He swallows down his nerves, and steels himself into something bolder and braver. This time, he isn’t going to hold anything back. “I just wanted to ask you something.”

“Yeah?”

He takes a deep breath, and looks to the sky. “What are your plans for Golden Week?”

Let’s try again, shall we?

“You seriously still have that old thing?”

Hinata frowns at him, hopping off his bike and swinging one leg over the seat. He kicks open the bike stand and leans it over, stable on the ground. “There’s nothing wrong with it.”

Tobio shrugs. He shoves his hands in his pocket, unsure of what to do with them. “Just been a while, that’s all,” he says. He remembers the day Hinata had gotten it, and the reckless and lovely ride he’d taken Tobio on.

“It has, hasn’t it?” Hinata murmurs, smiling a little. His eyes gaze over at his bike, at the bits of rusted metal and chipped paint. Features softening, as though he’s recalling all the times he’s used it, Hinata runs a hand over the handle, his touch gentle and light. Tobio thinks he looks trapped in time—somewhat like that eighteen-year-old kid that hiked through a mountain just to follow an old volleyball dream. A surge of nostalgia blankets over him, warm and kind like a familiar memory.

Hinata snaps his head back up to look at Tobio, a bright smile on his lips. Without a proper reason, Tobio feels his heart skip a beat. “So,” Hinata says. “What do you wanna do today?”

“Aren’t you the one who called me out here?” Tobio asks, raising an eyebrow. When Hinata had asked him what he was planning to do for Golden Week, he’d told him that the team was taking a break for a few days, so they were free to do whatever they wanted. Tobio had figured he’d just go home to Miyagi, since it had been a while, and Hinata had hummed in agreement before asking if they could hang out. So that afternoon, Tobio had gone outside of his house to see Hinata already making his way over, waving a hand up in the air as the other balanced on the handlebars, grinning all the way.

And now they’re here.

Hinata just shoots him another one of his smiles, and Tobio’s sure that it’s just the recent lack of exposure to them that makes his knees go weak. He’ll get over it in a few hours, probably. “I thought we could just go wherever you wanna go.”

He kicks at the asphalt. “No, you can pick,” he tells Hinata. “I don’t mind. It’s not like I have anywhere I need to be.”

“Hmm,” Hinata says, putting his finger under his chin as he thinks. “I don’t really know either.”

Tobio tilts his head in confusion. “Seriously? You were the one who wanted to hang out.”

“Yeah, because I wanted to see you,” Hinata says simply, like it’s obvious. “So I don’t really care what we do, as long as it’s with you.”

Tobio feels the heat rise to his cheeks. “Dumbass,” he mutters. This is the first time they’ve seen each other in a while, and if Hinata keeps on saying things like _that_ , then Tobio’s not that sure he’ll be able to keep it all together. “Don’t be stupid.”

“I’m not being stupid,” Hinata says, still smiling. “Just honest.”

Tobio looks away, unable to hold Hinata’s gaze without feeling his face warm. He can’t give himself away just yet, and he stares hard at the ground, wondering if he’ll be able to make it open up and swallow him on command. That would be pretty helpful.

“We could, I dunno, I guess we could just go around?” Hinata offers when Tobio doesn’t respond. “And then if we see something interesting, we can work from there. How’s that sound?”

It’s better than any plan Tobio has—not that he has any. So he just shrugs, nods to make his agreement known, and watches as Hinata rolls his bike to the side of his house for safekeeping. Once he’s finished, Hinata skips over back to Tobio’s side, still wearing that stupid smile that makes Tobio feel all weird inside.

“Natsu wants you to come over, by the way,” Hinata tells him as they start to walk, the grey asphalt crunching underneath their feet with each step that they take. There are flowers blooming in between the cracks, pink and purple and blue, and Tobio’s eyes linger on them, tracing the way the light falls on them. “Says it’s been ages since you last saw her. She really wanted to come today too—she begged me and said that she’d do the dishes for me and everything!” He laughs softly, a glint in his eye as he looks up at Tobio. “But I told her she couldn’t.”

“Why not?”

Hinata just shrugs. “Like I said, I just wanna hang out with you. Just the two of us,” he replies back, his cheeks flushing with a healthy color. “That’s…that’s okay with you, right?”

“Of course it is, dumbass,” Tobio says without missing a beat, looking right at Hinata with his full sincerity. In all honesty, there’s no person Tobio would rather want to spend time with other than Hinata, and even if he won’t admit it out loud—he’s missed this too. He missed it when it felt like it was the two of them against the world, two countryside boys who didn’t know any better, hanging on by loose threads and the skin of their teeth. He adds, hesitating slightly. “It kinda feels like…like before.”

“Before?”

Tobio bites the inside of his cheek. “Before,” he repeats. “Like when we’d just go out and do dumb stuff. Back—back then, just you and me.”

“Oh,” Hinata says, understanding. He grins. “Yeah, it’s…it’s been a while.” He hops over a puddle. “But I think it helps that all these places haven’t really changed a bit, you know? It all still looks the same.”

Tobio nods. As they round the corner of the street, they finally break through into the busier area of the town, where restaurants and stores line the blocks, and people mill around, in and out, or just window shopping. Hinata’s right—it looks exactly how he’d left it. Like nothing’s changed at all in the last few years, preserved and waiting for his return. Maybe that’s the thing about small towns, he thinks to himself. They’re the most resistant to change, a phenomenon in its own right to be able to oppose that one standard rule of the world, a place that remains constant despite all the suns that rise and set. It’s comforting to know, and he tucks the fact inside to keep. It’s like a place he can never really get lost in, a compass of a town that will always lead him back home. He knows these streets well. He’s grown up running on them until he was breathless, mapping them across his own skin so deeply that they became permanently engraved. He doesn’t think he could ever forget.

“Oh! Natsu mentioned that they were offering new dishes, and that they were all good,” Hinata says excitedly, pointing to a nearby restaurant. They’re busy for the late lunch crowd, the tables and chairs mostly full with people. It looks cozy enough, from what he can see through the windows. “We can try going there later, if you want? There’s even a promo going on!”

“Sure,” Tobio says easily. He reads over the sign outside the store, and proceeds to nearly trip on his own two feet when he reads exactly what _kind_ of promo Hinata was talking about—it’s a promo for _couples,_ free dessert for every pair that sat in for a meal. He wonders if Hinata noticed, or if he even _knows_ —Tobio sneaks a glance at Hinata, only to find him looking straight ahead, relaxed as ever—and Tobio tries not to overthink the implications of it. Hinata’s probably just being his usual blissfully unaware self; there’s nothing to really fret over. He’s nervous over nothing.

For a moment, Tobio vaguely wonders if today will be the day, but he doesn’t entertain that idea for too long, his heart immediately kickstarting at the mere prospect of it, and he shuts it down, lest he start blushing and Hinata notices. That wouldn’t do him any good, and it’s not like he’s done with planning anyway. He’s got an idea of what to say, but he figures he’ll do it once the season’s properly over. That way, there won’t be anything to distract either of them, and maybe it’ll go over much smoother. Still, he can’t discard the possibility of it happening sooner than he anticipated, but as long as he can restrain itself, then it should be fine.

They stop by a few stores every now and then—Hinata makes them go inside some candle shop, and he makes Tobio pick out which scent he likes the most, and they argue about it until they find one that they both consider pleasant. Hinata eventually buys the one they’d compromised on. Tobio wonders why Hinata had even bothered asking him, since it isn’t like he’ll be the one dealing with the smell.

When he voices this out to Hinata, he only looks at Tobio in confusion as he accepts the paper bag handed over to him, and says, “Obviously you have to like it too. How else is it supposed to remind me of you?”

Tobio sputters, feeling his face grow impossibly warm. “Why,” he rasps out. “Why would you need it for—for _that?”_

Hinata looks at him, his expression finally just the slightest bit embarrassed. “‘Cause you know…” he tries to explain, his voice sheepish as he gestures vaguely. He laughs nervously. “When we go back, and you’re in…you’ll be in Tokyo, and I’ll be back in Osaka, and I just…I just thought it would be nice.” Hinata clears his throat, glancing at Tobio for a split-second before flicking his eyes back away. “It’d be like…like you were around, even if you weren’t. So that’s why you had to like it too.”

Tobio blinks, unsure of what to say. There Hinata goes again, with his simple honesty and surefire words, always aiming right for the heart with something equally emotional and devastating, like a double-edged sword. How does he do it so easily?

“Oh,” he says, for the lack of anything better to say. He shifts his weight awkwardly, feeling a blush creep its way up his neck. “Then…then I should get one too.” Tobio doesn’t really know what he’s saying, or where it’s coming from, but Hinata perks up instantly, and all Tobio knows is that right now he doesn’t care much for candles, but he’d start a whole candle collection for this boy if asked. “So that it…so that it reminds me of you,” he says, swallowing down his drumming pulse. “And so I don’t forget how much of a dumbass you can be.”

Hinata rolls his eyes. “You had me in the first half, Kageyama, not gonna lie,” he says, shoving Tobio lightly with his arm. “Really didn’t need to add that last part, you know. It was already really sweet.”

Tobio just grins. “What? It’s important.”

“You’re so mean, Bakageyama,” Hinata says, with a light-hearted groan. He picks out the same candle he’d bought from the shelf, holding it up for Kageyama to see. It’s colored light blue, soft and pretty. “But seriously, you’re getting one?”

He shrugs. “Why not?” Tobio says, and he digs out his wallet from his pocket, bringing out a few hundred yen. Hinata is by his side as he pays for it, and the shopkeeper slips Tobio’s candle into a small paper bag. He accepts it gratefully, and shakes it slightly as he holds it out for Hinata to see. “Happy now?”

Hinata laughs, pushing open the door for Tobio to go through first. “Definitely.”

“Dumbass,” Tobio says back, but the nickname is as fond as it is old, its sharp edge softened years ago. “So where to next?”

“Hmm,” Hinata says, eyes scanning the other shops for a place to go. Tobio looks with him—there’s a sports shop, but he doesn’t really have anything that needs replacing right now, and he isn’t interested in buying anything from the flower shop either. There are a few more restaurants, a cafe by the end of the street, and a pet store. He’s just about to suggest that they head over to one of the food stalls for a quick bite before Hinata inhales sharply, his hand grabbing Tobio’s wrist and pulling him along, his eyes wild with excitement.

“Oi, slow down, where are we even going—”

“Arcade!” Hinata says in lieu of an explanation, ignoring Tobio’s calls to slow down just a little. “Kageyama, there’s an arcade! Oh, I hope I have enough change. Do you? ‘Cause I don’t know if what I have will be enough for both of us, I totally should’ve brought more, if only I’d known…”

He tries to keep himself from tripping, half-jogging as he tries to keep up with Hinata’s fast pace, stumbling slightly every few steps. Hinata’s grip on his arm is tight and insistent, and Tobio knows that his best friend is determined to get there at all costs, whatever is in his way be damned.

Hinata finally lets go once they’re standing outside the arcade. Tobio massages his wrist, red from the mark of Hinata’s hand made on him. Hinata sighs, satisfied as he takes a step back, relishing at the place before him. Tobio doesn’t even think there’s even something worth relishing at—the smell of sweat lingers faint in the air, and the music from the games mix into one loud crowd of sounds bleeding together, shrieks of laughter bouncing off the walls. Just by looking, Tobio can tell that a lot of the games are old—the stickers peeling off the machines, the seats cracked with use, the paint rubbed off of the handles and sides. Fortunately, it doesn’t seem like there’s too many people inside, but Tobio doesn’t understand why Hinata had been so excited. It’s not like it’s anything he hasn’t seen before.

This isn’t the first time Hinata’s dragged him to a place like this. The first time had been in their second year, and he’d managed to beat Tobio at every game that it frustrated him so incredibly that he swore to never come back, and Hinata had laughed at him, saying that he shouldn’t make promises he can’t keep. Just by remembering, Tobio almost feels the heat and summer salt on his skin, tastes the sugar from the chocolate bar he’d eaten on his tongue, and hears the quick click-and whir of the photo booth as the flash snapped in succession, recalling the way Hinata had pressed into his side, warm and perfect, their arms and thighs touching as Tobio tried to remain calm about the whole ordeal. Hinata had kept the picture from that day. Tobio wonders if he still has it, that little bit of summer tucked into a drawer, or stuck to a spot on his wall, reminding him of a time nearly lost to the ever-changing tide of the years. He hopes he does.

“I said I wasn’t going to come back,” Tobio says to Hinata, narrowing his eyes slightly. He crosses his arms, defiant.

“Oh, come on, Kageyama! That was a different arcade! That doesn’t apply here!” Hinata argues, and his hands are on Tobio’s arm, trying to tug him further inside.

He shoots Hinata a look. “You’re just gonna make fun of me again.”

“No, I won’t!” Hinata exclaims, and he’s bringing out those stupid puppy dog eyes of his—and to be honest, Tobio’s never really built up a good immunity to it, as foolish as it is. “And that was years ago! I’ll even go easy on you in the first round of whatever we play!”

Tobio gives him a disbelieving look. “Bullshit.”

Hinata just pouts, and he clasps his hands together. “Please? It’ll be fun!” he says. “You had fun last time, didn’t you?”

“I never said that.”

“Liar!”

“Cheater!”

“I didn’t cheat!” Hinata says with a huff. Sighing, he sticks his pinkie out, looking straight at Tobio. “Here. I’ll promise you that I won’t make fun of you or cheat. I’ll play fair and square.”

Tobio raises an eyebrow. “Pinky promises? Seriously? What are we, five?”

Hinata rolls his eyes. “Just do it, dummy,” he says, sticking his tongue out. Tobio makes a face back right at him, because they are both completely mature and responsible adults. “C’mon, it works with Natsu every time.”

Begrudgingly, Tobio holds up his own pinkie, his cheeks warming as Hinata curls his own finger around his. “There,” he mutters. “Pinky promise made or whatever.”

“Nuh-uh,” Hinata says, his grin cheeky and mischievous, and Tobio knows him well enough to fear what it means. His eyes sparkle. “We still need to seal it with a kiss!”

His eyes widen. “Seal it with a—”

Tobio feels Hinata press his lips to his cheek before his mind even registers it, quick as lightning, light and chaste, before Hinata drops back down on his toes. He doesn’t even wait for Tobio to blink before he takes off, laughing. Hinata winks before exclaiming, “Last to get to the ice hockey has to try to win the other something!”

Tobio doesn’t even react to the competition, not like he usually would, mind still reeling with the fact that _Hinata had kissed him,_ and his face feels like it’s burst into flames. He feels like he’s short-circuiting. Is he dying? Is he already dead? He feels numb, and holy shit, that really happened, _Hinata kissed him_. Okay, maybe it was just on the cheek, but a kiss is a kiss, and Tobio doesn’t know what else do but just stand there, and try to wrap his head around it. His hand involuntarily comes up to gingerly touch the spot where Hinata’s lips had been, his skin tingling with the aftershocks of the sensation. He can’t believe it, not one bit. Hinata kissed him. On the _cheek._

Tobio can’t breathe.

Then, after a few moments, he tries to snap himself out of it. He’s getting weird stares from just standing there, and he’s sure that Hinata’s waiting for him already by now, and oh man, he’s totally gonna have to win something for that idiot—but Tobio can’t even find it in himself to be annoyed. It’s like he’s on cloud nine, or whatever people call it, like he’s floating and he doesn’t want to come back down. He feels the sudden urge to just take Hinata by the hand, and _really_ kiss him, maybe to prove a point that he isn’t the only one who can do things like that, but then that would also require confessing, and that feels like a whole different ball game entirely. He doesn’t know if he could handle even more things like that. He’d probably never recover.

 _Inhale, exhale._ Tobio breathes, and he forces himself to relax. It was just a little kiss. It doesn’t matter (except it does, he’s going to think about this for the rest of his goddamn life), and he really ought to get a move on before Hinata starts worrying and comes looking for him. He can focus on it again later, when he’s alone in bed and has all the time in the world to think about what it would be like to have Hinata lying next to him, the sheets folding around his shape. They wouldn’t even have to touch or anything, but Tobio would still feel like his heart was railing inside the cavity of his chest, beating like a deafening jackhammer. God, how does Hinata still manage to make him feel this way? It’s been so long, but each smile Hinata sends his way still feels like the first, and every laugh sounds like a new melody that he has to learn to dance to. Like a young heart caught in older bones, still sent skipping like he’s a ten aged in love. How is that even possible?

Tobio takes a deep breath. He can think about this later. He has all the time in the world to think about Hinata Shouyou. This can wait.

Salvaging the rest of his dignity through a cheap game of mini ice hockey, however, cannot.

Shouyou lets out another bark of laughter as Kageyama tries to adjust his position, bending his knees and pressing his palm against the glass, eyebrows furrowed in deep concentration. His tongue sticks out of his lips, the slip of pink peeking out ever so slightly, eyes narrowed in determination, and his nose is just centimeters from poking the glass. The lights from inside the machine illuminate his face, the ocean blue sparking into something lighter, shadows on the edges of his cheeks. Shouyou thinks he looks adorable.

“A little to the left,” he chirps, grinning wickedly. Kageyama makes a sound of acknowledgement, before moving his hand ever so slightly. The claw budges, stiff at first before sliding. It moves half an inch too far. “No, no, go back a bit.”

“Are you sure?” Kageyama asks him, his eyes flicking over to Shouyou for just a second before returning to the task at hand. “I don’t even know if I can get it there. The crow, right?”

“Yup,” Shouyou tells him eagerly, stepping closer to Kageyama to get a better view. There are all sorts of different stuffed toys inside the claw machine, and there’s one black crow off to the left, and Shouyou had known within an instant of seeing it that he wanted it. Kageyama did owe him a prize, after all, and he’d been surprisingly skilled at winning things from claw machines the last time they had gone, so really, Shouyou’s being generous about it. “Doesn’t it look so cute?”

Kageyama just grunts, and continues back to focusing on his mission. Shouyou watches him from the side, silently admiring the curve of his cheekbones, the sharp edge of his jaw, where the light slopes and shines. His hair is parted at the middle, midnight black, shiny and wavy, shifting as he adjusts his stance. Shouyou can’t help but wonder if it’s as soft as it looks, what it would be like to run his fingers through it. For a moment, he thinks he sees Kageyama’s eyes flicker to him through the glass, lightning quick, before they’re back in full concentration, as if he’d never glanced Shouyou’s way at all.

“Here we go,” Kageyama mutters, biting his lip. Shouyou’s heart hammers in his chest as Kageyama slams down on the button, and the claw shoots down. Holding his breath, he watches as the claw slides down and tries to find purchase, hoping that it’ll latch onto the toy. Then, it squeezes, slowly making its way back up, and Shouyou feels the hope drain away from him inch by inch—then at the last second, the claw clasps against the top of the crow’s head, tugging it upwards. “Come on, come on, come on,” he hears Kageyama say under his breath, willing the toy to stay within the claw’s grasp, his heart thundering in his chest as it moves to the side, slowly slipping with the motion.

The claw releases the toy, dropping it into the hole, and Shouyou whoops loudly, throwing his fists into the air. Kageyama beams, and they’re hands meet for a high-five, cheeks flushed and smiles wide with triumph.

“I can’t believe you did it!” Shouyou tells him, feeling his heart beat wildly in his chest, and Kageyama’s eyes gleam with pride and satisfaction. “I can’t believe it actually worked!”

“Damn right it did,” Kageyama did, and with one swift movement, he grabs the fallen toy from the slot, the round black crow—a caricature more than anything, really, like something from a cartoon—held safely in his hands. With one more grin, he holds it off for Shouyou to take, pink flushing his cheeks in a way that makes him look boyish, a little like his younger self. “Here.”

“Thanks!” he says, a laugh escaping his lips as he hugs the toy to his chest. It’s soft and smooth under his fingers, undoubtedly made of fluffy cotton inside, and maybe it’s stupid of him to care about a toy as old as he is now, but Shouyou can’t really bring it in himself to care all that much, not if Kageyama had gone through all the trouble to get it for him. Those games are usually rigged, but he’d beaten the system on the first try.

“Yeah, yeah,” Kageyama says, waving a hand in dismissal, but Shouyou notices the pleased flush on the tips of his ears that indicate otherwise. He looks around at all different games and booths. “That means we’ve gone through everything already, right? I’m starving.”

Shouyou hums, taking a glance around himself, and finding that Kageyama’s right. Much like he’d promised, Shouyou hadn’t made fun of Kageyama for any of the games that he’d lost at, and the setter had won a couple of games even when Shouyou had given it his all, so there was never really any point in going easy on him. Overall, they’ve probably tied each other for wins, which he really should’ve seen coming, in all honesty. They’ve both always been too competitive for their own good.

Shouyou gazes around until his eyes land on something to the far end of the arcade, zeroing in on it until he realizes what it is. An idea pops into his head instantly, and he turns to Kageyama, bright and eager.

Without much of a warning, he grabs Kageyama’s arm, and pulls him in the right direction, ignoring his friend’s yelp of surprise. “Photo booth!” he exclaims excitedly. “Come on! We can leave after this, I swear, but we gotta do this one, Kageyama!”

Kageyama groans, rolling his eyes. He frowns, but it’s the kind that’s more disinterested than it is displeased, so Shouyou takes it as a sign to continue. They approach the white booth, and he pulls away the curtain, digging out a couple of yen from his pocket to start the machine up.

Shouyou scrambles into the seat, squishing to the side so that Kageyama has enough space next to him. It’s a lot smaller than Shouyou had expected, so the cramped space makes their sides press against each other, their legs touching, and Shouyou’s skin feels like it’s on fire. _Calm down,_ he tells himself. In all honesty, he doesn’t know what had gotten in him earlier either, to _kiss Kageyama’s cheek_ like that. It had been a spontaneous thing that popped into his head at the last second, and he’d done it without thinking too much about it. But seeing the stunned look on Kageyama’s face, his cheeks flushed… It had made his stomach squirm with something pleasant, fuzzy and completely warm, and it made him feel giddy all over. It was absolutely worth it. And Shouyou _had_ said that he wouldn’t hold back anymore, didn’t he? If he was going to try making his feelings known, then he might as well go all-out.

“Uh,” Kageyama says awkwardly, looking a little flustered.

“Just look at the camera,” Shouyou instructs him kindly, pointing over to the dark circle at the top of the screen. The countdown begins as soon as he presses the start button, and he immediately smiles, pressing more into Kageyama’s side as he throws up a peace sign. “Smile, Kageyama!”

The flash goes off, and the countdown starts again. This time, Shouyou sticks out his tongue and shuts his eyes closed, making a face at the camera, wondering what expression Kageyama’s making. He sees the flash blink white beyond his eyelids, and looks up at Kageyama for a fraction of a second.

“Oh! Kageyama, pretend to be me! I’ll do it too!” Shouyou says quickly, before flattening his hair down and frowning as hard as he can. He sees Kageyama’s reflection on the screen—puffing up his own hair and smiling widely, and the impression makes Shouyou want to laugh, but he manages to hold it in until the flash goes off, not wanting to ruin it. He breathes out a few giggles, and Kageyama’s laughing softly too, and the sight of it—of Kageyama’s smile and gentle laughter, his cheeks painted watercolor pink, the bright lights against his skin, reflecting almost like a halo above his head—it causes something in Shouyou to unravel, and his heart swells.

Maybe it’s why he’s caught off-guard by the way Kageyama presses his lips against Shouyou’s cheek when the flash goes off for the last time, his eyes widening and comprehending what had just happened a second too late. His heart hammers hard and loud in his chest, and he feels incredibly warm everywhere, and Kageyama is looking at him with an unreadable expression on his face, his lips pressed in a thin line. It looks like he has something to say but can’t quite pin it down, and Shouyou’s swallows thickly, trying to get his breathing to stabilize into something calmer.

Is this how Kageyama had felt when Shouyou had kissed him? Is it too much to hope for that it was?

Hastily, he gets up from his seat, making sure to not look at Kageyama, and says, “I’ll go—uh, the picture, it should come out in a few seconds, so I’ll, uh—” Shouyou pulls the curtain, his hands shaking, and isn’t this just dumb, it was just a _cheek kiss,_ he shouldn’t be overreacting like this. “Yeah. Yup. I’ll just—I’ll go wait for it.”

He steps out of the booth, and his knees feel like jelly, and he really shouldn’t get worked up over something so simple and insignificant like this. Except it _isn’t_ insignificant, not to him, not when it’s Kageyama. He doesn’t want to think about what it could possibly mean—he’s ninety percent sure that it’s just payback for his own kiss earlier—but he can’t stop himself from thinking that Kageyama never does anything he doesn’t want to, or do something he’d hate, so it must mean that he wasn’t strictly opposed to it, right? Shouyou’s skin is still tingling, sparking, at the spot where Kageyama had kissed him, and he rubs his palms against his jeans, trying to wipe the sweat off. He’s fine. This is fine. It’s completely fine.

Shouyou manages to collect himself by the time Kageyama follows suit, stepping into the space next to him just as the photo starts printing out of the slot. He holds his breath as the strip finishes, and he takes it in his hands gingerly, looking over the shots.

The first two are as ridiculous as he’d anticipated—to match Shouyou, Kageyama’s face is a little awkward in the first picture, unsure and unsteady. But by the second, there’s the slightest hint of a smile on his face, small and curved, and it makes Shouyou a little soft inside. The third photo is hilarious—the switch looks so wrong and disturbing that Shouyou breathes out another laugh at the sight of it. His eyes then move on to the final picture, and his breath hitches, looking at the result with a barely-controlled giddiness.

Kageyama is mid-motion, his lips against Shouyou’s cheeks, a faint blush gracing his cheeks as his eyes squeeze shut. Shouyou, to his own horror, finds that his own face is nothing but completely red, eyes wide in surprise, clearly unprepared and defenseless. He can feel Kageyama looking at the strip of photos over his shoulder, and all Shouyou can do is make an embarrassed sound at the back of his throat, laughing nervously.

“They turned out pretty good, huh?” he says, strained, biting the inside of his cheek. He hopes Kageyama doesn’t hear the crack on his voice. “Do you want to keep it or…?”

As if to answer his question, the machine whirrs, and another copy of their photos slip out of the slot. Kageyama reaches for it wordlessly, and Shouyou blinks, shooting his friend a questioning look.

“I, uh. On the screen, they asked if you wanted to print more than one copy, and I—um, I said yes,” Kageyama explains quickly. “I paid for the extra, so you don’t have to worry.”

“I wasn’t—” Shouyou falters. He watches as Kageyama slips the photo inside his wallet, unsure what to make of it. “You…liked them?”

Kageyama just shrugs. “It’s like you said,” he says simply, and Shouyou wonders how he can be so calm about something like this. Is this something friends do? Kiss each other on the cheek and keep the photographic evidence of it somewhere you can always see it? “They’re good photos.”

“Right,” Shouyou says weakly. “That they are.”

Kageyama gestures to the door with a tilt of his head. “Come on,” he says. “You said we could go eat after this, and I’m hungry.”

Shouyou lets another laugh bubble out of him, if only just as an attempt to release the rest of his nerves. Never mind what it all could mean—what matters is this moment, right here, and taking each second as it comes. He needs to get a grip.

“Of course you are,” he teases, nudging Kageyama’s arm with his elbow. He places the stuffed crow inside the paper bag he’d gotten from the candle store, thankful that it’s small enough to fit. “We can go to that restaurant we saw earlier. That sound okay with you?”

“Sure,” Kageyama agrees, pushing the door open for the both of them. They step back into the spring air, cooling them down from the yellow-warm atmosphere of the arcade, and Shouyou breathes it in, letting it ground him back to where he is, and not to the little photo he’s got tucked into the side of his phone case.

The streets are less full now, with only just a handful of people walking around. The sky’s settled into something calmer now that they’re halfway through the afternoon, the clouds working at a much slower pace compared to earlier. They start off in the direction that they’d come from before Shouyou had gotten sidetracked with the idea of games and prizes, falling into step on the sidewalk. He swings his bag in between them, trying to go higher and higher, until Kageyama notices his antics and snorts, warning him that his candle might break if he keeps it up. That makes Shouyou stop, and he settles for counting the number of cars that he sees as they walk, talking to Kageyama all the while.

“—so it was, like, totally unrealistic!” Shouyou exclaims, in the middle of another one of his rants about the last movie he’d seen. “It was like they forgot all about him! The way they set him up makes you think that he’ll be a main character, you know, with all the cool explosions and stuff, but then poof! It was like he never even mattered! He wasn’t even there in the final battle!”

Kageyama nods, considering Shouyou’s words. “I like that bit at the end, though. Where they fought back-to-back.”

“Oh, yeah, that was really good too,” Shouyou admits, still a little sour over everything else. “It was all like _gwah! bam!_ and then _whoosh,_ especially that part where it was like they knew what the other was thinking without having to say it!”

“And the swords,” Kageyama adds.

Shouyou sighs, almost wistful. “And the swords.” He kicks at a rock. “It would’ve been a really good movie, except for that one bit. I hear they’re already planning a sequel.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

Kageyama clears his throat. “Do you,” he says, on the edge of uncertainty, wringing his hands together like a safety net. “Do you maybe want to—when it comes out, I mean. Do you want to watch it together?”

Shouyou perks up. “Definitely,” he says with a sharp grin. “That way I can see how scared you get when all the creepy monsters show up.”

Kageyama rolls his eyes. “They don’t scare me, dumbass.”

“Oh, yeah?” he says, raising an eyebrow. “Not even during that jump scare at the end?”

“No,” Kageyama says, keeping his gaze straight ahead. Shouyou stifles a laugh when he sees the pale pink tint on Kageyama’s cheeks.

“Are you sure about that, Kageyama-kun?” he says teasingly, poking Kageyama at the side, chuckling when his best friend groans and tries to swat him away. “Are you sure you’re sure?”

“What are you—yes, I’m sure,” Kageyama snaps, dodging when Shouyou tries to elbow his arm. Shouyou’s just about to retort again when Kageyama stops, and says, in the flattest voice imaginable, “Oh, look. We’re here.”

“You’re deflecting,” Shouyou shoots back.

“I am not,” Kageyama replies with another eye roll. “Table for two, please.”

“Right this way,” the waitress says.

“Nah, you were totally scared,” Shouyou tells Kageyama, following after the waitress as she leads them inside the restaurant, to a table and two chairs by the glass window, where they can see the rest of the street before them. “I bet it freaked you out so much that you couldn’t sleep.”

“It didn’t,” Kageyama insists, pulling back his chair to sit down on it unceremoniously, crossing his arms as he leans forward on the table. “It was stupid and predictable.”

Shouyou snorts. “Uh huh.” He picks up the menu from the table, skimming over the choices. Natsu had been right—there’s a lot of new dishes he doesn’t remember from the last time he’d been here, and all the prices seem reasonable enough. “Guess we’ll have to see when we watch the second movie, huh?” he says cheekily. “Anyway, what are you getting?”

Kageyama lowers his own menu and points to one of the plates listed. “This one, probably. What about you?”

“I think I’m going with this one,” Shouyou says, tapping over the bold letters, showing it to Kageyama for him to see. He nods in approval. “It’s been a while.”

The waitress comes over to take their orders not too long after, stepping in the middle of another argument over whether who would probably learn how to juggle the fastest. Both of them say their choices, but not without Shouyou kicking Kageyama under the table to try and prove his point, and he snickers over the glare that Kageyama sends his way.

“Will that be everything?” the waitress asks them, clicking her pen closed.

“Yes, thank you,” Shouyou says politely. He hears Kageyama grumble something under his breath, probably an insult, and Shouyou bites his lip to keep himself from laughing.

“Oh, that reminds me! Will you be availing for the couples promo?” the waitress asks, smiling at them kindly. “There’s a free dessert of any of your choosing that comes with your meal. It’s a way to celebrate the restaurant’s anniversary.”

Kageyama’s head snaps up. “No, we aren’t—”

“Yes,” Shouyou says. He ignores the glare Kageyama shoots his way, and keeps his eyes on the nice waitress, smiling a little. “Yes, we will. Thank you.”

“Alright,” she says. “Feel free to call if you’d like to add anything to your order. Your food should be here in fifteen minutes.”

Shouyou grins at her as he watches her leave, feeling Kageyama’s eyes on him as he shifts in his seat. He pretends not to notice as he picks up his chopsticks, feeling the wood against his fingers. He remembers when he was younger—

Kageyama kicks him, and pain throbs sharply all the way down to his bone. He looks back at Kageyama only to come face to face with a murderous glare.

“Ow!” Shouyou exclaims, rubbing at his leg. “What was that for?”

“What the hell was that,” Kageyama hisses, narrowing his eyes at Shouyou. The harsh effect is diminished by the blush blooming on his cheeks, spreading like a rose in the spring. “Why did you—do you realize what you—she probably thinks we’re on a _date.”_

Shouyou traces a finger on the edge of the table, not meeting Kageyama’s eyes. _It could be,_ he wants to say. _This could be a date. It looks just like one, don’t you think?_ But he doesn’t really feel like explaining his way out of that one, and his heart is beating too fast. It doesn’t feel like the right time either, misplaced and lost, so Shouyou swallows it down. Instead, he just shrugs, feeling strangely calm despite the tension he should be feeling, and says, “Free dessert, Bakageyama. Would you really turn that down?” He drums his fingers on the table, and mumbles, “It’s not like we’re actually dating, anyway. We don’t have to do anything.”

Shouyou sneaks a peek at Kageyama for the briefest of seconds. Something’s changed in his expression—a minute shift in the way he’s looking at Shouyou. There’s still surprise, but the irritation has melted by a fraction to give way to something else. Sadness, Shouyou thinks, but it’s not exactly that. Something a little more lonely. Longing, maybe.

“That isn’t—that’s not what I meant,” Kageyama says, his voice suddenly much softer than it had been earlier, the words floating gently across the table. “I was just surprised—that you would agree. I didn’t think that you would ever—I just didn’t expect it.”

“Oh,” Shouyou says, pressing his lips together. His fingers come to a stop, flattening themselves on the table. “Sorry. I didn’t—you’re right. I should’ve asked you first.”

Kageyama coughs, clearing his throat as he places his hands gently on the table. “Yeah,” he says after a moment, casting his eyes downward.

When neither of them say anything else, an awkward, stilted tension in the air takes the place of their conversation, making Shouyou squirm in his seat. He hadn’t meant it to end up like this, and it’s been so long since he actually felt uncomfortable around Kageyama that he’s not really sure what to do.

Kageyama runs a hand through his hair. “Guess I should’ve figured, anyway,” he says, looking a little exasperated, his smile forced, but it’s clear that he’s trying. Shouyou holds his breath. “That you’d want to get the free dessert. It’s just like you to do that.”

Shouyou scoffs, and feels the tension peel away slowly off his skin, and he crosses his arms. “It’s _free,_ Kageyama. How am I supposed to turn that down? Are you saying you would’ve?”

He snorts. “Probably,” Kageyama says, and Shouyou huffs, leaning over the table to flick Kageyama on the other side. His expression pinches almost immediately, scowling as Shouyou moves back to the edge of his seat, laughing to himself. “The hell was that for?”

Shouyou shrugs, grinning. “Just felt like it.”

Kageyama rolls his eyes, rubbing at his forehead. “Dumbass.”

“I learned from the best.”

“Why, you little—”

Shouyou cackles as he manages to dodge another kick Kageyama sends his way, the table rattling with his missed aim, and Shouyou presses both palms down on it to steady the table. Kageyama pushes his glass closer to the center of the table, wary of how easily it could’ve fallen. Shouyou just smirks in triumph, and Kageyama’s face heats up, probably just embarrassed from losing. Not that it was much of a game or anything, to be honest, but Shouyou counts it like a small victory anyway, no matter how stupid.

Their food comes a couple minutes later than expected, and the waitress hands over their bowls, steaming hot and nearly filled to the brim, smiling at their antics. They clap their hands in thanks before picking up their chopsticks and digging in, the food a mix of sweet and salty that makes Shouyou want even more.

“Here,” Shouyou says, moving before he even gives himself a moment to think about it. He picks up his carrots and transfers them over to Kageyama’s bowl, only realizing what he’s doing once he’s taking the last piece, his arm freezing halfway between them. “I, uh—sorry, I didn’t—”

“Huh?” Kageyama asks, not quite looking back at Shouyou. Instead, he’s focused on gathering up all his tomatoes into one pile, before picking them up with his chopsticks, and dumping it all into Shouyou’s bowl. “What? Do you like carrots now or something?”

Shouyou blinks, pausing for a moment before shaking his head. “No, I don’t, but that’s…” he trails, staring at the tomatoes in his bowl. Huh. He takes the last slice of carrot and hands it over to Kageyama. “Never mind.”

He watches as Kageyama shoots him a disbelieving look, then proceeds to eat the carrots Shouyou had given him. He hadn’t seemed to mind that Shouyou let an old habit kick in; Kageyama doesn’t seem to be bothered at all, and gives no indication of noticing. But maybe that’s the whole point, Shouyou realizes. This is just another one of the things that they’ve always done. It’s something so usual for them that there isn’t anything extraordinary about it, and it’s a little funny that he’d ever thought that this would change between them.

For the next few minutes, the two of them just eat in silence, filling up their stomachs with the steady comfort of each other’s presence. It’s been a while since they’ve had something like this, Shouyou thinks, trying to comb through his memories. The first time in months that they’ve sat down and talked, simple and easy with shared food between them. Maybe all those elderly people are onto something, when they’re always going on about eating meals with your loved ones. Because they’re right—it does feel different, but in a good way. A little more calming, the kind that has you stalling for just another second longer, wanting to drag it out for as long as you can just so that you can stay with each other for one moment more. That’s what Shouyou feels now, at least, like he could never get enough of this, even when they aren’t saying anything important. Perhaps silence holds its own sort of significance, an undercurrent of comfort, and Shouyou learns that like this, he doesn’t fear the quiet one bit.

Eventually, because it’s still them, after all, and they’ve never really been the type to go too long without arguing, Shouyou asks Kageyama of his opinion on the last video he’d sent him, one of the crazy theories he’d stumbled across online. Kageyama’s quick to shoot it down, dismissing it as impractical and obviously edited, while Shouyou defends it—not exactly because he believes it, but mostly just for the hell of it, to see Kageyama get all riled up—with loud exclamations and half-baked proof that his memories struggle to bring forward. Kageyama keeps trying to debunk it, but Shouyou’s as sharp as he is quick when it comes to things he’s interested in, so he’s able to bounce off one idea after the other, trying to chip at Kageyama’s defenses.

And it must look a little odd, Shouyou thinks to himself as Kageyama goes on another rant, to see two professional athletes bickering at a restaurant about the most random things, but he can’t bring it in himself to care. He wouldn’t have it any other way.

“—so _no_ , that’s definitely not possible, and every other so-called evidence they showed in that stupid video is just complete bullshit,” Kageyama says, taking another bite from the strawberry cheesecake—their free dessert.

“But the witnesses, Kageyama! You can’t possibly tell me that they _all_ dreamt of the same thing at the exact same time! You can just _tell_ that there’s something fishy going on,” Shouyou tells him, waving his fork around as though to help him prove his point. “If you say that it’s just a mass hallucination, then how are you gonna explain everything else that happened? Things don’t just float into the! Gravity is a thing!”

“I know what gravity is, dumbass,” Kageyama says, scowling. He stabs at the cake. “What, you don’t think that wouldn’t be easy to fake? It could’ve been like those magic shows for kids, with the almost invisible strings, lifting things up into the air, like it’s supposed to be spooky or something.”

“Or, hear me out, it could be—”

“It’s not ghosts,” Kageyama deadpans. “You think everything’s ghosts. Or aliens.”

“That’s ‘cause I’m right ninety-nine percent of the time,” Shouyou says smugly, grinning loosely. He takes the last bite of the cake, poking it through his fork. “And anyway, this whole thing, it’s sorta like—have you ever heard of those dancing people from France?”

Kageyama raises an eyebrow. “The dancing people?”

“Yeah!” Shouyou says, mid-chew. He swallows, licking his lips. “They danced until they died, it was super weird, and they wouldn’t stop for some reason—”

“Your bill,” the waitress interrupts, stepping in front of their table. Her smile is sweet and exasperated, and Shouyou feels slightly apologetic for all the arguing that they’ve subjected her to. “That’s if you’re paying together, but I can go over it again if you’d like to split it.”

“No, it’s fine,” Shouyou says quickly. “We’ll be paying together.”

“Alright,” she says. “I’ll be back shortly.”

He wastes no time before turning to Kageyama, the setter’s mouth already open and ready to respond, but Shouyou beats him to it, and tells him, “I’m paying.”

“Like hell you will,” Kageyama argues, and he brings out his wallet in one swift movement, digging through the bills for the right amount. “It’s my turn.”

“Nuh-uh,” Shouyou says, rifling through his own wallet. He slams the bills down on the table the same time that Kageyama does. “I’m the one who asked you to come here, so it should be me.”

“Don’t be dumb,” Kageyama quips back. “You already spent so much at that stupid arcade, so just let me—”

“No, because I asked you—”

“But you’ve already—”

“That doesn’t matter—”

“Just let me—”

“Kageyama, we’re supposed to be on a _date_ , remember?” Shouyou reminds Kageyama, giving him a look. It seems to shut him up well enough, his lips pressing together. “And since I asked you to spend the day with me, it should be me paying.”

“But—”

“Nope.”

Kageyama opens his mouth, looking like he’s about to argue back, but then he closes it, considering. “Fine,” he says after a moment, resigned. “But next time, it’s on me, alright? I’ll be paying.”

Shouyou tries not to show his enthusiasm at the prospect of there being a _next time._ Who knows, he thinks to himself, feeling warm and squishy, maybe next time it’ll be an actual date. It won’t just _feel_ like one, because maybe it’ll _be_ one instead. Wouldn’t that be nice? “Okay,” he says, as calm as possible. “Sure.”

Kageyama seems satisfied with Shouyou’s answer, and leaves him to pay, counting under his breath. Out of the corner of his eye, Shouyou watches as Kageyama stares at the window, his attention pulled elsewhere, his sky eyes reflecting back onto the glass, a clear blue in spite of the fragmented blurriness. It must really be a piece of something heavenly then, to be so precious and startlingly clear that it defies the laws of physics. Shouyou wonders what other pieces of the world his irises hold.

Once he’s finished paying, they both get up from their seats, tipping their waitress generously, and exit the restaurant. Their knack for being able to talk and banter over everything kicks back in full-swing, jumping from topic to topic as Shouyou dodges all of Kageyama’s attempts to swipe at him, missing the flick of his hand by just a good centimeter or two. Shouyou breathes out a laugh when Kageyama trips on a crack on the pavement, reaching out a hand to help him stabilize himself; Kageyama snorts when Shouyou loses balance attempting to hop all the way home.

They pass by a bookstore, and Shouyou picks up a couple of recipe books and manga volumes, while Kageyama hangs around, not all that interested. They stop by a convenience store too, and Kageyama buys himself a box of milk while Shouyou helps himself with orange juice, teasing Kageyama all the way for how passionately he sips it. They also argue about the right way to eat cereal—milk before cereal or the other way around—and if it matters how you eat a KitKat or not, and what it might say about you as a person. None of it really makes sense or means anything, but Shouyou keeps all the information tucked into his back pocket, filing it away for more useless facts that he knows about Kageyama Tobio. It gives him a thrill each time, like he isn’t sure what to do with it, or if things like these will ever come in handy. They’re just nice to keep, the knowledge of all the little things that build up his favorite person in the whole world.

They even walk by a flower shop, and Shouyou asks Kageyama about the little cactus he’d given him for his birthday last year. Shouyou had named it _Yamayama-kun,_ and Kageyama hated it, but it stuck around eventually, and Kageyama tells him that the plant is still alive and well, sitting comfortably on his desk. _It reminded me of you,_ Shouyou had told him on that cold December evening. _So take care of him, just like you take care of yourself, okay?_ Kageyama had seemed unsure, but he’d accepted the gift anyway, and Shouyou’s happy to see that it hadn’t been a completely horrible thing to give. He’s usually pretty good at giving presents, but giving ones to Kageyama have always made him particularly nervous.

Eventually, they learn that there are only so many times they can stall walking through the same street before they’re forced to step on the path homebound, slowly making their way back to Kageyama’s house, rounding the corners and blocks, familiar and old. Shouyou hadn’t noticed that it was already almost sundown, saturated pink and oranges bleeding into the sky, staining the clouds like mixed cotton candy, the wind blowing past his hair and carrying his wishes up to the heavens. It steals his breath every time, the simplicity of this gentle phenomenon, and he breathes it in.

Shouyou looks at Kageyama, and suddenly he is sixteen again, that lovestruck kid who kept trying to get a beautiful boy to notice him, making a fool of himself as the rest of the world watched. But it never mattered who was looking, or how many people laughed at him, because he never cared what anyone else thought. He didn’t care about how many people thought his jokes were funny or called him cool. He didn’t care, not unless they were Kageyama Tobio. Because somewhere along the way, Shouyou had stopped checking to see if the world had its eyes on him, and it mattered less and less to him. Shouyou had always dreamed of making sure the world saw him, and now that he has, now that he’s made them see him, he can’t help but think that maybe, in truth, Kageyama had been the world this whole time.

And here he is now, twenty-two and still hoping that the beautiful boy will notice him, just as in love as he was that very first day. A candle that still burns bright, but warmer now too, like it had refined itself when maturity came, but without losing any of its luminance. Something that’s remained constant despite all the things that have changed between now and then. An invincible sort of love, maybe.

Kageyama’s got sunbeams on his eyelashes, the orange melting into his blue eyes, a piece of the sky itself inside him. Shouyou still believes in it, after all this time, even if Kageyama would probably think it’s weird. Kageyama looks older now, of course, because of the years that have aged them both, but his eyes have always remained the same, still piercing and fierce, kind and soft, and nothing else but breathtaking. Still looking at the world and volleyball with a love that can never be tamed. And today Shouyou had seen glimpses of that kid that still lives within him, and maybe that’s something that won’t ever change either. Maybe it’s because they’re together that they can’t help but shape themselves into pieces of themselves that are younger and more honest, peeling away the layers that hold them back from being true, and stripping them bare with childish tendencies and old habits. That’s the way it’s always felt for Shouyou—that with Kageyama he never has to be anything but himself, that he can say weird things and Kageyama will still try to match him, taking him seriously even when anyone else would consider him silly. That he and Kageyama have fought to reach this level of understanding, that words have never come easy between the two of them but they worked through it anyway, and it’s always paid off in the end. That before anything, there’s trust between them, and it’s how they’ve gotten this far in the first place.

Shouyou would spend the rest of his life this way if he could. Hanging out with his best friend and walking through the streets just to window shop, arguing over supernatural theories and stories, bickering over who can fit the most marshmallows in their mouth, and racing through the hills just to prove a point, laughter following them through the wind. An endless summer full of infinite opportunities, as familiar as the feel of a volleyball in his hand, and he’d take it, as long as it was the same boy next to him all throughout.

“I had a really good time today,” Shouyou finds himself saying, placing his hands in his pockets. He smiles up at Kageyama. “It was really fun.”

“Yeah,” Kageyama says back. His eyes look like a meteor shower, with the golden streaks against the deep blue. “It was…it was good.”

“Even when I dragged you to the arcade?”

Kageyama scoffs, shaking his head, but there’s a light smile on his lips despite his exasperation. “Even when you dragged me to the arcade, I guess.” He points to Shouyou’s paper bag. “You better not lose that toy. I worked hard to get it.”

Shouyou rolls his eyes. “It took you two minutes.”

“Two long minutes of very hard concentration,” Kageyama says, trying to sound serious. “It was very stressful.”

“Yes, I’m sure,” he quips back sarcastically. Kageyama breathes out a soft laugh, his shoulders shaking slightly. “And I still stand by what I said. You only won at those basketball games ‘cause of how ridiculously tall you are.”

“It’s not my fault they put those hoops so low.”

“They’re supposed to be for _kids_.”

“You’re the one who told me to play!” Kageyama points out, and Shouyou laughs, knowing that this won’t really get them anywhere. “At least I didn’t get over-excited at the racing games and almost broke the steering wheel.”

Shouyou turns flustered. “It was already loose when I started playing! It wasn’t me!”

Kageyama shoots him a look. “Sure,” he says flatly.

“And even if it _was_ because of me—not that I’m saying it was—doesn’t it just prove how super strong I am now?” Shouyou says proudly.

Kageyama just rolls his eyes. “Is that really how you’re choosing to look at it?”

“Yep!” He grins.

“Dumbass.”

“Don’t be scared of the truth, Kageyama. You know, I could probably carry you now,” Shouyou teases, poking Kageyama in the arm.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves here.”

Shouyou sticks his tongue out at him. “Fine, stay blind to the truth.” He expertly dodges a punch Kageyama sends his way, laughing while he does it. Hopping over a fallen branch, Shouyou says, “And anyway, the food was really good too, wasn’t it? Natsu was right.”

Kageyama hums in agreement, the light glinting off of him and turning his skin golden, so bright that Shouyou has to look away before it overwhelms him.

“She did say that there’s a good reason for it,” Shouyou says, focusing on stepping around all the stray rocks. He thinks he hears Kageyama make a weird noise. Probably just a cough. “She’s also got a new crush, you know, so it’d be a pretty good place for them to try, don’t you think? For a date?”

Kageyama makes another strange noise, and Shouyou looks up at him curiously. He looks a little pink, but it’s probably just because of the lightning. “Yeah,” he says, a little strained. “Yeah, it wouldn’t—it wouldn’t be bad. Not bad at all.”

Shouyou hums. He thinks that he’ll probably remember this day for the rest of his life, in spite of how simple it was. Or maybe it’s _because_ of it that he’ll engrave it to his memory, because it’s always been the simplest things that have mattered more than anything. Even if what people are attracted to are the grand details, it’s what’s simple that shines the most when you know how to look. The little things, like the way the sky looks like a bleeding heart, or the modest hum of the cicadas, the rustle of the leaves. The crunch of the cement underneath his feet, Kageyama standing close by, and the familiarity that it brings to walk on these streets. It’s always been simple—the races against each other that turned into runs together instead, the pork buns that they’d share after practice, the time they spent pouring over their homework, and the days passed trying to understand what it means to overcome distance.

And sometimes, there’s both. Simplicity in the grand: on a winter night, Kageyama Tobio smiled, and Hinata Shouyou fell in love.

“Hey,” Shouyou says. Kageyama looks back at him with curiosity, expression expectant, and there it is, the whole world and sky in his kind eyes. He points to the sky. “We haven’t seen a sunset together in a while.”

Kageyama looks a little surprised, before he tilts his head upwards, and the understanding seeps in slowly. “You’re right,” he says, his voice slightly tinged in awe, and he looks back at Shouyou with a soft smile. And it’s just like that that Shouyou knows that Kageyama understands what he meant—that even if it’s already been months since Shouyou had fallen back into the same timezone, this is the first time that they’re acknowledging that the horizon before them is finally one they share again. That sun looks the same to both of them, not twelve hours ahead or behind, but moving at a constant pace before their eyes. They’ve always stood under the same sky, but here they are and here they go again, standing together despite all the other places they could be in the whole world.

“Japan is twelve hours ahead of Brazil,” Shouyou tells Kageyama quietly, and he can feel Kageyama’s eyes on him, even if he stares up at the sky. “So even then, even like that, you were still ahead.” He looks at Kageyama. “And I was still chasing after you.”

“But not anymore,” Kageyama says, and he makes it sound so simple on his tongue, but Shouyou knows it as truth first and as a compliment second. It was a promise. “Now we’re the same.”

“Yeah,” Shouyou says, and he lets a smile rise to his lips. _Now we’re together._ He lets it just hang in the air for a moment, watching it turn into something palpable, all the things they’ve said merging into this one shared sunset, and relishes in the way it makes him feel. Happy, he thinks. This is what happiness feels like.

Sakanoshita Store comes into view as they continue walking, its outline still the same after all these years. It brings back old memories, and Shouyou’s glad to see that it hasn’t seemed to change one bit. Well, the vending machines seem to have gotten an upgrade, but the sign is still tilted slightly to the left, and the crack in the roof tile remains there from the time Nishinoya had hurtled his shoe upward to see how far he could kick it.

“Do you remember,” Kageyama says, and he’s looking towards the store too, his words clouded with a memory, “when you tried to eat a pork bun all in one go?”

Shouyou feels his cheeks warm in an instant. In an attempt to salvage his dignity, he exclaims, “I didn’t just _try,_ Bakageyama! I actually did!”

Kageyama huffs out a laugh, the corners of his eyes crinkling and his voice laced with humor. “You should’ve seen your face, dumbass,” he says, his smile crookedly. “One of your _smartest_ moments, definitely.”

“It was really, really hot, okay, you should’ve tried it—”

Kageyama snorts. “That’s exactly why I didn’t, idiot.”

“No, it’s because you’re a coward,” Shouyou bites back, but there’s no malice in it at all. He doesn’t think about the reason he’d done it back then was to just get Kageyama’s attention. “You were scared of my greatness!”

“As if,” Kageyama says, rolling his eyes. “It just means that I have common sense.”

“Oh, yeah?” Shouyou taunts. “So where was it when you got your arm stuck in the vending machine—”

Kageyama flushes pink. “That was one time!”

“—trying to get your _fifth_ milk box! Fifth! You weren’t satisfied at all!” Shouyou says, laughing. He turns to Kageyama with a smirk. “Oh no, that definitely happened more than once, Kageyama. Do you really want me to bring out the pictures?”

Kageyama groans, his cheeks red. Serves him right, Shouyou thinks. “Dumbass, you seriously didn’t keep them, did you?” he asks helplessly, and when Shouyou only grins at him, sharp and mischievous, he just buries his head in his hands, his neck and the tips of his ears flushed just as bright. “Oh my _god_.”

Shouyou laughs, skipping around Kageyama, and teasing him about sending the pictures to Miwa, which Kageyama glares at him for. The light feeling in his chest is back, making him feel like a balloon that could just float up and up into the sky, deliriously happy with the moment he’s living in. He likes it like this. He really does, and he wishes that he could have this all the time. This, here, with Kageyama and teasing him and joking and laughing until his cheeks start to hurt.

He wishes he could stay in this slip of time forever, looking at Kageyama and thinking that he’s just as beautiful as the setting sun, watching blushes bloom over his pretty cheeks, seeing the smile that curves upwards and shows he’s truly happy. He wishes he could spend the rest of forever this way, swapping heartbeats and trading stories as they each try to memorize the things they missed while they were apart, new expressions and cadences, relearning each other well enough until it’s like they never separated at all. Like this, with Kageyama standing within hand-holding distance, close enough to reach out for and pull closer, saying things just to see and hear him laugh, and finding excuses just to let this last a little bit longer, just to have a bit more of it, because they’re having a really good time and— _oh._

It’s time, isn’t it?

Shouyou’s breath catches in his lungs when it occurs to him. It doesn’t feel like the grand revelation he expected, and it isn’t something that completely stops him in his tracks and scrambles up his thoughts. Instead, his mind feels clear, calm even, with a quiet sense of understanding. Rather than a supernova, it’s a soft tap against his being, a gentle nudge that sinks into him and unfolds the moment before him. As though he’d just known all of a sudden, or maybe a collection of all the little moments that led up this second, the whole afternoon building up to it without him even knowing.

So this is what Bokuto had meant, to only know it the moment it came to you. Shouyou understands it now. He _knows._

Strangely enough, Shouyou knows he should be terrified. He should be shaking with his heart in his throat, threatening to overspill with the knowledge of what he’s about to say and what’s going to happen—and he _is_ afraid, undoubtedly so, but it’s a lot less than he expected. Maybe, he wonders, maybe it’s because it’s Kageyama. Maybe it’s because it’s Kageyama and the way he’s looking at Shouyou is soft and fond and warm. Maybe it’s because it’s Kageyama that Shouyou feels a sense of calm, and feels better than he should. Because Shouyou’s never known Kageyama without also knowing trust, on and off the court, and this is just another one of those times to prove it. Because with Kageyama, Shouyou’s never felt anything but invincible.

And no matter what happens, he knows it will be okay. Kageyama has always been gentle with his heart.

Breathing deeply, Shouyou thinks about what Oikawa told him, about rewriting the story into something better, about not stopping until he was satisfied. He thinks about what Heitor said— _you need to be honest about what you feel,_ how love is fragile and special and you need to take care of it. He thinks about all the scenarios in his head, about all the million different ways he’s imagined this to go, from his daydreams in class to his wandering thoughts lying alone in bed. In the middle of conversations, at the top of the world. He thinks about how it never mattered, because none of them managed to hold the moment before him right now.

All these scenarios, but he’s always just been waiting for something a little more than ordinary to happen.

Shouyou takes a breath, looks to the sky. New days were never made for running away, and if he doesn’t do it now, he’s afraid he never will. Never mind that they’re standing in front of Sakanoshita, that he hadn’t known today was going to be the day, or that the rest of the world is already on its way home. This is not how usual confessions go, Shouyou knows, like a rhythm of lightning flashes in his chest. This isn’t how they’re supposed to go at all, but Hinata Shouyou’s always been known for making the best of one in a million chances.

_What do you think it would be like to fall from the sky?_

Shouyou inhales. It’s time to find out.

“Hey, Kageyama,” Shouyou says, and he looks at Kageyama, his sky-eyes lit up like a fire. He feels his heart doing star jumps in his chest again, back for one more round. Pointing a finger to the air, he says, “What do you think?”

Kageyama looks confused for a moment, before he blinks, understanding what Shouyou means, his lips twitching into a smile. His eyes peek up the clouds, and Shouyou watches the curve of his jaw as it tilts upwards, sharp and cut clean. He hums. “It’s all weird today,” Kageyama says, squinting. “I can’t really tell any of the shapes.” He looks back at Shouyou. “You’re not gonna say something stupid like, I dunno, a rose exploding, right?”

“What?” Shouyou asks, furrowing his eyebrows. “When have I ever said something like that?”

“I don’t know!” Kageyama exclaims, and Shouyou feels a soft laugh escape from him, looking at Kageyama’s exasperated face. “You say dumb shit all the time.”

“I do not!” Shouyou says, but he’s grinning anyway. He steps side to side, trying to release some of his nervous energy. “So just try, won’t you?”

Kageyama gives him a look. “You’re not gonna say anything weird?”

“Can’t promise you that,” Shouyou quips back.

“What _can_ you promise then?”

Shouyou smiles, pressing his lips tightly. Something twinges in his heart, at this situation, at the words he’s about to say, at the way Kageyama looks beautiful under the sunset. “That I’ll be honest.”

(What is love, if not honesty?)

Kageyama looks at him funny, but doesn’t question it. He just tips his head back up, his chin pointing at the heavens, and what a contrast it is, to see his pale skin on a backdrop of saturated colors, like he’s cut from the stars themselves. “They mostly look like blobs, really,” Kageyama tells Shouyou. “But I guess that one looks like a…water bottle?”

Shouyou looks at the cloud in question. “Oh, yeah, maybe! The next one?”

Kageyama makes a thoughtful sound. “Pineapple,” he says after a moment. “You?”

“Same.” He inhales, and points to the left. “Puppy?”

“Or a bear. And the one above it—what do you think?”

To the right this time. “Christmas tree.”

“Jacket.”

Up. “Sushi.”

“Airplane.”

Right. “Fridge.”

“Just a regular box.”

To the right again. He smirks. “A rose exploding,” Shouyou says, and Kageyama shoots him a look. He holds his hands up defensively. “What? That’s what I think it looks like!”

Kageyama raises an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

“Hey, you’re the one who put the idea in my head,” he points out, cheeky, and Kageyama just shakes his head. “Hm, left. Crown, I think.”

“Camel.”

“The letter v.”

“The letter u.”

“Same thing, dummy,” Shouyou tells Kageyama, and he snorts, the look on his face so fond that it makes Shouyou’s heart squeeze. He takes another breath. Okay. “The one right next to it over there. A dandelion.”

“A meat bun.”

“Of course. A candle.”

“Pen.”

“Wings.”

“Chair.”

“Paint brush.”

“Strawberry.”

“Heart,” Shouyou says. “Hey, Kageyama?”

“The sun,” Kageyama says without missing a beat. “What?”

“I’m in love with you.” Shouyou glances at him. “Meat bun.”

“I said that already—” Kageyama says, before his eyes widen, and he snaps his head to look at Shouyou. He blinks. “Wait— _what?”_

Shouyou shrugs. “I said it was a meat bun? It looked kinda similar to the other one, so—”

“No, no, no,” Kageyama says quickly, something wild growing in his eyes, frantic and confused. “The—the other thing. What you said before that.”

“Oh,” Shouyou says, and his heart is beating lightning-quick, picking up the pace and stumbling all over the place. The words still feel foreign and clunky in his mouth, unpracticed and disused. But they feel soft too, like the syllables are meant to be something gentle and kind, a beautiful thing. Shouyou’s never said it out loud before, not until now. “I’m in love with you.”

There’s a whole myriad of emotions that flicker on Kageyama’s face, too quick for Shouyou to pin them down. Confusion, surprise, anguish, fear, embarrassment—flickering and fleeting before he finally settles with something vaguely neutral. “How?” Kageyama asks, his voice sounding like he dares to be hopeful, cracking at the edges, an undercurrent of thinly-veiled desperation.

“What do you mean?” Shouyou asks. “I always have.”

“No, you can’t be, because I would’ve—I would’ve—” Kageyama says, sounding breathless and winded, like it’s impossible to grasp. Shouyou sort of understands—he can’t believe he’d said it either, and it’s a little like a weight has been lifted off his chest with the confession, releasing the pressure on his heart. “I would’ve—if you had, this whole time—I would’ve noticed—” Kageyama falters, and he looks at Shouyou, something indescribable in his eyes. “How long?”

Shouyou swallows thickly, his mouth running dry. How does he put something like that into words? It feels like he’s felt this way forever, and he can’t remember a time that he didn’t. When he thinks of Kageyama, he thinks of love, and it’s almost as inseparable as him and volleyball, because those two things have always gone hand in hand, whether he’d known it or not. “Since the end of first year,” Shouyou answers, because even if he can’t ever pinpoint that moment he truly fell, that’s when he remembers realizing it, stumbling with the weight of it, and even if it isn’t exact, it’s real right and it will have to be enough. “That’s when I knew. I just—I never told you.”

Kageyama’s eyes are wide, and Shouyou watches the shape of his lips when he mouths _first year,_ like a silent question. It feels strange, to be honest about this. Like he doesn’t know how to be anything else but true now.

“What do you mean you would’ve known?” Shouyou asks him, confused. “That you would’ve noticed? You couldn’t—you couldn’t have. I made sure to never tell you.”

“But it was _you,”_ Kageyama mumbles, like it’s any more of an answer. “If it was you, and if it was right there, then I should’ve—I would’ve seen it.” He looks at Shouyou, his eyes made of broken glass. “Why didn’t you—why didn’t you tell me?”

And that’s the question, isn’t it? That’s been the problem this whole time. He’d had so many chances, and he thought of it a million times but always refused, pushing it to the back of his mind. But that’s also the point of this, right here—it’s what Shouyou’s trying to fix now, at this very moment. He’s trying to make it right.

“Because I was afraid,” Shouyou admits softly, his voice coming out fractured and small. “I was afraid I would lose you.”

Even now, it still haunts him, that deep pit in his stomach, threatening to take him away. It makes his hands shake, but Shouyou clenches them, trying to hold his ground. He started this. He can’t run away now. He’d thrown the ball to Kageyama, and Kageyama had tossed it. It’s up to him now to spike, and he needs to be able to say it. To let it become real, so that he can finally move on from it.

“I was afraid that it would change things between us,” he begins to say, staring hard at the ground, at the cracks in the pavement that feel like fissures in his chest. Let the quakes come, Shouyou thinks defiantly. He can take them. He’ll stand his ground. “Losing you was the last thing I ever wanted. And I couldn’t risk it, not with volleyball on the line, not with the way we were. What we had was already so good, and I tried to convince myself that it was enough for me, to be like this with you, simple and easy. I told myself that I was satisfied, but I always—I still wanted more. And that’s selfish of me, isn’t it? That I still do?”

Shouyou smiles at Kageyama, weak and small and helpless, and he feels that old ache in his chest, the one that always comes back to him when it comes to Kageyama. He greets it like an old friend.

“You were important to me,” Shouyou says quietly. “You were my best friend.” He exhales slowly, splays his fingers before him. Closes his eyes for a brief second, before opening them again to meet a perfect sky blue. “You still are, you know?”

He presses his lips together. “But it’s like what you said,” he continues. “Things are different now. It’s not like back then anymore. And that’s why—that’s why I figured that I could tell you now. Because it’s never been about not wanting to, of course it wasn’t, I wanted to tell you more than anything, but I—“ He sucks in a sharp breath. “I just couldn’t.”

When he looks at Kageyama, he sees that little kid again, that one he met when he was fourteen, looking a little lost but determined not to show it, scared but trying to hide it. A certain vulnerability to the way he looks now, something Shouyou can’t name in his eyes. He’s always wished he could.

“And I’m not asking you for anything either,” Shouyou tells him, and he needs Kageyama to know this, that this whole thing is just for him to be honest, and that he doesn’t expect anything in return. “I wasn’t going to ask back then, and I’m still not going to ask now. I promised that I wasn’t going to take anything you weren’t willing to give, and I’m still not going to.” He looks at Kageyama, and there isn’t a single word that he’s saying that he doesn’t believe to be true. “You’ve always been so generous about giving yourself to others. And even if I didn’t know a lot, _I knew you,_ Kageyama. I knew that if I told you, you would’ve tried, just because it was me. And I didn’t want it if you didn’t mean it.”

Isn’t that just the tricky thing about love? That you can’t just ask it to come to you? That if you do, it won’t really be yours?

“And for a while, it was okay, you know? It was fine, because you never actually seemed to notice stuff like that, so I guess I just thought—I thought that you wouldn’t care anyway, or it didn’t matter to you. But then—” he breaks, feels the years-old frustration crumple inside of him just for a moment, and he is eighteen and smitten and foolish again. “But then I found out you liked someone else, which meant that you did care about stuff like that, just not—just not when it came to me. And after that happened, I knew I couldn’t just tell you something like that. I couldn’t do that to you.”

Shouyou didn’t want to overwhelm Kageyama when he told him, but he can’t help it—the words are slipping out of him faster than he can catch them, and there’s only so much he can do to hold back now that the dam’s been broken. “I wanted to tell you, but I couldn’t. It was just—it was hard, and it wasn’t right, and then I had to leave, and by then I thought it was already too late.”

He sighs, long and deep, and tries for another smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “I guess I just recently realized that I didn’t have anything to lose anymore. Which is why I’m here now,” Shouyou says, tired but still trying. “I’m just trying to be honest, and hoping that I don’t lose you by the end of it.”

Kageyama breathes slowly, his fingers coming together to tangle and intertwine the way they do when he’s looking for the right thing to say. Shouyou’s always been patient, even more so when it comes to Kageyama, so he’ll wait for as long as it takes. He’s waited for much longer than this. He can take it.

“You weren’t going to lose me,” Kageyama says after a moment, and the whole world is silent around him. “Not back then, and still not now.”

Shouyou blinks. Relief floods through his every cell and entire being at hearing Kageyama’s words—because it’s the one thing that he’d always been afraid of, and to hear Kageyama say it now, it settles neatly into his bones, close to a promise. _I’ll still be there,_ he remembers Kageyama telling him in the quiet of the gym. Maybe he should’ve known that from the start.

“You wouldn’t have, because—” Kageyama’s face pinches, still searching for the proper words. “I would’ve never let them happen. You should’ve…you should’ve told me.”

Shouyou opens his mouth to say it again—that he couldn’t, that he wasn’t sure, that the fear swallowed him before he could even try, but Kageyama beats him to it, speaking again, his voice gentle like a summer rain.

“But maybe I should have told you too,” Kageyama says, so incredibly quiet, silver pinpricks in his eyes as he looks right at Shouyou, hidden like lightning.

“Told me what?” Shouyou asks, fragile, and he’s not sure of what’s to come. Kageyama’s always been honest with him—it’s what makes him so incredibly endearing, how straightforward and blunt he can be about the way he feels. Shouyou can’t think of any other reason, unless—does it have to do with the person he liked? That’s the only thing Kageyama ever held back from him, not that Shouyou was ever entitled to knowing it.

“I had a plan,” Kageyama says softly. “I was going to tell you after the season ended, when we were both free. I was going to wait until it felt right. And then I was going to tell you everything, until you knew all of it. Until you understood what I wanted to say, and what it meant to me. What it meant that _you knew me.”_

“Kageyama,” Shouyou breathes, his heart caught in his throat. “What are you saying?”

Kageyama smiles, and the look on his face— _god, the look on his face_ —it’s something that reaches into Shouyou’s chest and pulls at his lungs and stretches them around, messing them up like ribbons, choking his heart. Shouyou needs to understand it, he needs to, now more than ever.

“I’m saying,” Kageyama tells Shouyou, his voice cracking at the edges, looking like moonlight and milk glass, the pink-gold of the dying sun passing right through him. “That I’m in love with you too.”

Shouyou stills, and the world stops.

“I’m in love with you,” Kageyama says. “I love you. I love you so fucking much, you know? Do you know that? And if you said something, or _asked_ me about it, I would have told you. I was terrified, but it was you, and I would’ve done it. And before you left—” Kageyama breaks, and there’s something helpless in the way he speaks. “Before you left, I was going to tell you I loved you. Do you remember that? That’s what I wanted to say. I wanted to tell you I loved you.”

Shouyou can’t breathe. His head is spinning, and he can’t believe what he’s hearing. This can’t be—Kageyama couldn’t have—but he never even—Shouyou would have noticed if he did, wouldn’t he? Shouldn’t he have known? Why didn’t he see it? Why—

“But you liked someone else,” Shouyou blurts out. “Remember, you—you had that other person you liked, didn’t you? The one that Tsukishima said—”

“It was you, Shouyou,” Kageyama says, looking right at him with the softest expression he’s ever seen. “It was always you.”

This is the extraordinary scenario. It’s always hard to let go of something once you’ve finally found it.

Shouyou’s heart tumbles around in his chest, stupid like it’s never learned how to properly walk, never learned to stand on its own. Clumsy, he remembers learning. Without skill or grace, misstepping in awkward places. That’s what his heart feels now—moving clumsily in his chest, like it doesn’t know what to do at all.

Kageyama loves him.

_Kageyama loves him._

Kageyama’s loved him this whole time, and he hadn’t even known it. How is he supposed to react to that? How is he supposed to keep something so beautiful like that inside of him? He doesn’t think he could ever find the words to capture the happiness that threatens to burst out of him at this very moment, the seams snapping as he fails to keep it all in. He feels the smile that spreads to his lips, rising and growing until he’s grinning so widely that his cheeks are already beginning to hurt, but Shouyou can’t find it in him to care.

He takes a step forward, and then another and another, until he’s standing right in front of Kageyama, and rushes forward to wrap him in a hug, colliding and stumbling backwards with the sudden weight before steadying once more. With his heart beating quick in his chest, Shouyou presses close to him, a wide smile against Kageyama’s chest, feeling the way they both tremble at something greater than both of them at all the revelations they’ve learned, at the way they let themselves be honest, _really_ honest, for the first time in years. This is a heart laid bare and open, and he lets Kageyama see right through him, properly this time, all his secrets and flaws and mistakes. The only thing he can do now is hope that Kageyama will still choose to stay.

“So you really…?” Kageyama says, his voice barely above the whisper, sounding like he could break at any moment. Fragile and vulnerable, as though after all this time, he still doesn’t allow himself the simple thing of wanting someone else, the hope in his voice recklessly building so quick that it makes him fearful of what it could mean to be stripped of it. Hope is the hardest thing when it comes to love, after all, and it’s something they’ve both learned. Love is not easy, but it’s not hard either, if you’re doing it right. “It’s real? You—you’re in love with me? It’s really—it’s really love?”

“Yes,” Shouyou says, tilting his head up to meet Kageyama’s gaze. His grin is wobbly at best, and he breathes out a laugh, nervous and shaky, but honest. “Yes, it’s real. I love you. I think I’ve loved you forever. I’m sorry it took me so long to say it.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” Kageyama murmurs, and one of his hands comes up to touch Shouyou’s cheek, tender and gentle, and Shouyou leans into the touch, thinking for the first time— _I can have this. I can finally have this._ It makes him smile again, uncontrollable and giddy, and he feels like a kid again, so happy that he doesn’t think he’ll ever feel anything else. It feels strange and odd, to not have to hold this inside of him anymore, but it’s the best he could’ve asked for. “I love you too.”

Shouyou can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of him. _I love you too._ It makes him so hopelessly _relieved_ to hear it; Kageyama saying those words to him, telling it like it’s a truth and not just in a dream—it makes his stomach feel weird and warm inside. His heart is doing star jumps again, rapid and messy and lovely, and Shouyou feels like running a hundred miles and shouting to the rooftops. He doesn’t really know what to do with himself. And isn’t that just the best feeling in the world? To know that the person you love loves you back? To know that everything’s finally going to be okay?

It turns out Shouyou never had to be afraid, not with Kageyama by his side. Kageyama couldn’t have stopped his fall, but he was always going to be there when Shouyou landed. He was always going to be there to catch him.

Shouyou looks at Kageyama, at the centimeters between them, and wonders what it would take to finally bridge that gap. They’ve gone from eleven thousand miles to a few feet to barely any inches left, and it wouldn’t be hard at all, Shouyou thinks, to fill the remaining space. To finally press close enough that all his dreams will have to learn to take a new shape instead, not when they’ve become real at last, and dandelions and stars will have to find another unsuspecting boy to ask wishes from. It would be so easy, and now—now there isn’t a single thing that’s stopping him anymore.

Carefully, he brings up his hands to cup Kageyama’s face, feeling the heat of Kageyama’s cheeks under his palms, at the smoothness and softness of his skin. He keeps his touch light and gentle, like he’s never held anything more precious, with more reverence than he’s ever felt in his life. Kageyama’s eyes follow his every movement, and he feels sunburned from the gaze. Shouyou holds him, and slowly, with enough time to give Kageyama a chance to refuse, he leans in, covering inch after inch, shortening the gap between them until there isn’t anything that separates them anymore.

Shouyou kisses him, presses his lips against Kageyama’s, and he’s sure he’s never tasted anything sweeter. Suddenly he can’t think of anything else but Kageyama—the way it feels to finally be able to have this, electrifying and magical and dizzying, and how it’s so different from what he expected, but in a really good way that has him smiling into it. It’s messy and a little awkward, and their noses bump into each other with the lack of practice, but Kageyama tastes like summer and pork curry and promises and invincibility. He tastes the way Shouyou’s always expected love to taste—sweet and wonderful and lovely and all the best things. He wraps his arms around Kageyama’s neck, standing on his toes to pull him closer, and he feels Kageyama place his hands on Shouyou’s waist, both of them trying to conquer any of the millimeters that stand in their way. Shouyou thinks that he wants this forever, if he can have it. He’ll never have enough of it.

When he lets go, he leans his forehead right against Kageyama’s and opens his eyes to stare back at the sky and the infinite shades of blue. Breathless, he lets himself revel in it, letting the words that they’ve told each other just hang in the air as they stand closer than they ever have before, trying to take it all in. This is all he’s ever wanted, and it’s miraculous, the feeling in his chest, every time he remembers that he can finally have it. That he doesn’t need to wait, not anymore, he doesn’t need to be patient, long hopelessly, or chase after Kageyama. He has all he wants right here before him, and Shouyou doesn’t need to ask for anything else. He won’t ever need to, not if he has this.

Kageyama’s got a smile on his face, wobbly but happy, like he isn’t really sure what to do with himself either, his cheeks lit up pink like the springtime, and Shouyou doesn’t think he’s ever looked more beautiful. He realizes that Kageyama’s probably wanted this as long as he has, that he’d been waiting just as Shouyou did, afraid of losing one more thing important to him. Shouyou’s hand finds Kageyama’s to squeeze them again, as if to say _I’m here,_ to reassure him and tell him _I’m not going anywhere._ Kageyama squeezes back, and Shouyou doesn’t need words to know that he understands. They’ve always been like that, in the way that some things only make sense to them, like volleyball and promises and cloud shapes in the sky.

Eventually, he steps back, keeping his hold on Kageyama’s hand all the while, swinging their hands between them as they face each other. Kageyama is bathed in the golden light, and the world continues on spinning, but Shouyou can’t seem to look away. And it makes him feel something, something indescribable but breathtaking, to see that Kageyama’s looking right back at him, his eyes never once leaving Shouyou’s. Has Kageyama always looked at him like that?

“You know,” Shouyou says, rubbing his thumb against Kageyama’s hand, and he’s delighted to find out that he’d been right—that it’s like their hands were made to hold each other, fitting against each other perfectly. “I feel like… Back in high school, I always felt like I was trying to get you to look at me. Like I’d always make the worst jokes or do stupid things just so that you’d laugh, or I’d say things just to get you to turn my way. I just—I wanted you to look at me all the time.”

It still feels a little strange, Shouyou thinks, to finally be open and honest about all of this. But it’s also surprising just how easy it is, now that there’s nothing holding him back from laying all of his love on the line. He looks at Kageyama and feels a sense of calm wash over him, like he truly is invincible with him around, even when they’re off the court and it’s been years since that promise was made. He wonders if Kageyama had known its importance the first time he said it, if he’d seen all they would lead up to and just how much it would matter to both of them. Probably not, to be honest, but that’s what makes it even more special. How simple it had been, and how grand it had become.

“Stupid,” Kageyama says after a moment, his gaze as soft as his words. “I was already always looking at you.”

Oh. _Oh._

It’s too much. It’s all too much, the way Kageyama had said it, the way he’s looking at him, and Shouyou doesn’t know what else to do but rush forward and tackle Kageyama in another hug, wrapping his arms tightly around his waist and burying his face into the crook of Kageyama’s neck. He lets the laughter burst out of him, a million different feelings at once, like he’s standing on top of the world with no plan of ever coming back down. This must be why people are always writing about love, Shouyou thinks to himself, because nothing can make you feel the way it does, a kaleidoscope of different emotions that take you on a rollercoaster ride, but still knowing when to slow down when needed. Nothing can make you happier or sadder or a mix of everything else in between. Nothing can hurt you more, but nothing can help you grow just as well.

Shouyou lifts Kageyama off of the ground and spins him around, laughing at Kageyama’s yells of surprise. And there it is, Shouyou tells himself, there is the whole world, right in his arms. There is the sky and there is the ocean in his eyes, there is the valleys and hills on the planes of his face and the curves of his arms, there is the bridge between cities and towns on his nose. There is the sun in his smile and the stars in his hair, there is the moon on his lips. There is Shouyou’s whole world, right here, in this winter boy with the sky-eyes.

“I told you I could carry you,” Shouyou teases, and Kageyama just shakes his head and laughs, a fondness that stretches even greater than the sky in the depth of his irises. “This is what you get for not believing in me.”

“I never said that,” Kageyama says, his words made to bite but they hold nothing but kindness. “I’ve always believed in you.”

Shouyou swallows thickly, and he hugs Kageyama tighter, pressing against his best friend, holding him so close that he swears nothing will ever be able to separate them again. He can’t describe the relief that he feels, the infinite happiness that he’s carrying, and Shouyou hopes that the poets knew to write about this too, because there truly is nothing greater than finding something so golden that you know to never let it go. That after years and years, there is still hope, after all, and all that you have to do is make sure you care for the love you are given. There is always love, even in the smallest things, as long as you know where to look.

Shouyou grins until his cheeks start to hurt, and it’s with so much certainty that he knows that he’ll remember this day forever, just maybe not for the reason that he’d originally thought. _Kageyama loves him,_ he remembers again, and the thought of it overwhelms him so greatly that Shouyou can’t help the way his eyes sting, feeling fragile and stable all at once.

“Wait, are you _crying?”_

“Shut up! No, I’m not—I just—” Shouyou says, and he can’t help the laugh that spills out of him, his shoulders shaking as he rubs the tears on his cheeks. “I just—I liked you so long that I never actually thought that you would—that you would actually like me back.”

Kageyama smiles at him, and there’s that look again, the one with the poorly-concealed want, and it feels good that Shouyou knows what it is now. “I didn’t think that you would either,” Kageyama admits, sounding just the slightest bit sad, but that won’t do at all, so Shouyou takes his hand to squeeze it again, to remind him of the truth. “I’m still—it still doesn’t feel real, you know? Like, this could be a dream, and then you’d be gone, and I wouldn’t—”

“It’s real,” Shouyou tells him gently. “It’s the realest thing I’ve ever felt.”

The smile that Kageyama gives him is fond and soft, and it makes Shouyou’s insides squirm all over again, warm and pleasant. Kageyama keeps their hands linked as they begin to walk again, and the sun is nearly gone from the sky, the stars beginning to twinkle in. They have no more secrets for Shouyou, and he wouldn’t want to hear what else they have to say, anyway. He has all he wants here with him.

“So what happens now?” Kageyama asks Shouyou, angling his head in the light. His face colors. “I’ve never—you know I’ve never done this with anyone before. For me, it was only ever you, and even then I still don’t know much, or what’s supposed to happen next.”

Shouyou feels his cheeks grow warm. “I don’t know either,” he says softly, because it was only ever Kageyama for him too. And it’s nice, he thinks, to be able to hold Kageyama’s hand as they walk home, like they’ve been doing this their whole lives. He just knows that he wants to keep doing it, and keep whatever they have going—even as new as it is, he’s more certain about it than anything else. For the first time, he gets to stay, and he’ll do anything he can to keep it that way.

“But that’s okay,” Shouyou says, looking up at Kageyama with a smile. “Because we can just figure it out together. Just like we always have.”

Kageyama nods, and he presses a quick kiss to Shouyou’s cheek, which has him gasping in surprise and turning flustered, but the smile on Kageyama’s smile is worth the embarrassment.

“What was that for?” Shouyou asks. It still tingles where Kageyama had kissed him, and he wonders if it will always feel like this. He wouldn’t mind if it did.

Kageyama shrugs, a thin strand of sunlight threading through his dark hair. “Just felt like it.”

Shouyou grins. He thinks about all the moments that he’d held back from doing something, like holding Kageyama’s hand, or kissing him on the forehead, and how he doesn’t need to anymore. He thinks about missing Kageyama and thinking that he was never even his to lose, and how it’s not true anymore. He thinks about all his missed opportunities and stolen glances, and how all the other moments led up to this anyway, and even if it took a really long time, they still got there in the end, and that’s what matters most. He thinks about how he doesn’t need an excuse to look at Kageyama anymore, and he can kiss him whenever he wants to. He thinks about how maybe they just needed to be lost for a while in order to be found.

Shouyou thinks about how they could’ve had this ages ago, but he also knows that they probably wouldn’t have been ready for it anyway, and that there are some things you can only learn through time and distance. The circumstances were different back then compared to now, and so many things have changed in the years that they grew on their own. Maybe it was necessary for them to spend their days the way they did, close but not together, just to see how far they could make it on their own. To prove that they were strong on their own, but to realize that together, they’re something more than invincible. They’re something fearless and brave, unstoppable and defiant. They’re a _promise_. And even if they spent years trying to get it right, they still have enough time to relearn everything else, and they still have so much more to go ahead of them. They’ll figure it out. They have all the time in the world.

This is just the beginning.

> To: Oikawa
> 
> _i did it. i rewrote it, just like you said_
> 
> To: Oikawa
> 
> _i think it’ll have a happy ending this time_

When Tobio wakes to greet the daylight, he finds it not in the sunbeams filtering through the curtains, but in the sleeping boy next to him, a miracle of honey and amber, his cheek pressed against the pillow and fiery hair splayed around like a halo.

He blinks repeatedly, and sleep loosens its hold on him, the yellow-white light catching onto the other crevices of the room instead, and he watches as the dreams leave him, knowing that by midday he will have forgotten all about them. But he doesn’t mourn for them, and for the first time he doesn’t feel the need to, as his memories from yesterday pass through him like a warm blanket, softening the edges of the bright morning and reminding him of what he holds in his hands now. What he carries in his heart, what words have left his mouth. What it means now, that all he can see beyond him is the golden morning, and it’s brighter than anything else he’s ever seen.

Hinata rests close to Tobio, his breathing gentle as he softly mumbles words from his own dreams, the rise and fall of his chest slow and steady as the daylight bends itself around him, an affliction he’s always seemed to carry. He looks the calmest he’s ever been, a wistful half-smile on his lips, as though even in his dreams laughter is generous to him. Curled against Tobio’s side, his fingers are splayed against Tobio’s rhythmic heartbeat, contentment easing off of him with each soft thud, and it feels hazy and dreamy but real enough that Tobio knows it’s all true.

It still manages to steal the breath from him, the knowledge of what’s real and what happened yesterday. How Hinata stopped walking, and looked at Tobio with his sunset eyes, and how there had been _something_ there on his face. Something that can’t be put into words; something that can only be recognized and spoken by the eyes. How they stood on a fault line, and let the earth crack beneath their feet with the windswept confessions. How Hinata said _I love you,_ and how hearing it had felt like sun-spoil and lightning strikes and summer liquor. How Hinata took Tobio’s hands in his, how he kissed him soft and sweet, and how their fingers never let go of each other once they’d been found. How Tobio, shy and nervous and smitten like a teenager, asked Hinata to stay the night, and how Hinata agreed with a smile. How they told stories and made up myths and laughed until sleep swept them away into something beautiful.

And Tobio doesn’t think that he could ever want anything else, now that he’s lying next to the boy he finally gets to call his, who he no longer needs to love in secret. Because Tobio has waited years for this to happen, and now that it’s finally come to him, it feels like the ultimate phenomenon, a whirlwind in his chest that thunders and roars, before settling down and carrying him gently, letting him rest for as long as he wants. He’s waited so long that it feels strange not to be standing on the cliff’s edge anymore, or sitting in a sinking boat. It’s like he’s been waiting his whole life for it, and to have it now in front of him, finally beginning to unfold, Tobio can’t wait to see where it goes. And this time, there’s no rush. They can take their time with this, move in slow motion and measure out their steps, learn the dance and fall deeper in love while they’re at it. They can spend forever just being like this, and he wouldn’t mind at all.

Because this is what most people don’t know: that Kageyama Tobio spent six years watching for the sun’s shadow in the clouds, and then was there to greet it at first light.

Hinata stirs, his snores softening until all that’s left is the steadiness of his breathing, a slow and gradual crescendo as the sleep shakes out of his skin to allure them again later. He shifts the angle of his head, moving a little closer, the sheets rustling by the barest amount. Tobio watches as Hinata’s eyes flutter open, the gentle light pouring into his irises, turning them golden like daylight. Finally, the sun rises.

Hinata’s eyes find Tobio, and it’s incredible and breathtaking, the way his lips stretch into the softest smile, like seeing Tobio first thing in the morning is something that makes him happy. He glows bright in the simplicity of the moment, like a god finally coming home to rest, like a human learning to let each second mean something. “Good morning,” Hinata says, a half-mumble, the sleep still present somewhere in his voice, unable to let go just yet.

 _Good morning,_ Tobio thinks. _It’s good to be alive today, because I get to see you once more._

“Good morning,” he says, and allows himself to stare, to let his gaze linger without shying away, and it overwhelms him, just how easy it is to not hold back anymore. Hinata is still smiling, and it’s doing funny things to Tobio’s heart, like turning it into a hummingbird and soaring around his ribcage.

“Did you have any dreams?” Hinata asks softly, clearly unable to drag the sleep out of his being, his syllables loose and light, floating up into the still air. And like that, with his hair mussed and his eyes barely open, everything about him gentle around the edges, Tobio feels himself begin to unravel, even when Hinata isn’t doing anything at all except being himself.

He shakes his head. “Not really,” Tobio answers truthfully, because once he’d fallen asleep, it had captured him in his entirety, light but exhausted in the wake of everything that had happened.

Hinata hums, blinking slowly, half-awake and struggling to keep consciousness, wispy and airy, like he can’t quite decide between falling back asleep or staying awake. _Cute,_ Tobio thinks to himself, a little amused. A sleepy Hinata is a cute Hinata, and he marvels at the revelation, like a mumbling that’s grown on him. They’ve spent nights lying together before, and Tobio remembers waking up before Hinata during high school training camps, but it’s never been like this before. He’s never been able to just look at Hinata this unabashedly, always hiding behind stolen glances and light-hearted snarks, but now, he lets the rest of the sharper edges strip away. He’s always been made of hard lines, but here, in this moment with the daylight of a boy next to him and close enough to touch, Tobio finds every last bit of him softening. Keeping him mellow and fuzzy, sinking into the slip of time for as long as he can.

“Well, _I_ had a dream,” Hinata says, and he shifts in position to lie on his side, facing Tobio properly. “It was about a bunch of elephants, except they kinda looked like giraffes, too,” he tells Tobio with a yawn, stretching out his arms. One of them brushes against Tobio’s skin, setting him alight. “Like, they had spots too, and their trunks were _super_ long. I was in charge of feeding them, but they kept stealing all the food from my hands before I could even come close.” Hinata pauses for a moment, trying to recall pieces of a dream that’s slowly fading away. “Oh, and you were there, I think. You were with me.”

Tobio raises an eyebrow. “Was I feeding the elephants too?”

“Nah,” Hinata says with the slight shake of his head. His cheeks turn just the slightest bit of pink, up to the bridge of his nose and on the scattering of freckles on his cheeks—a strawberry galaxy on his skin. “I think we were on a date, actually. To the zoo. Except I ended up getting involved with the whole feeding thing,” he says, a little sheepish, and maybe it’s the drowsiness that compels him to say things like this with such ease—but then again, Hinata’s always worn his heart on sleeve.

“You know how sometimes in dreams where it’s like you’re watching yourself move from the outside? Or where you keep changing who you are? It was sorta like that,” Hinata continues, waving a hand around a little. His shoulder is touching Tobio’s, and Tobio swears that he can feel the heat of his skin even through the layers of clothing. “I think at one point I was one of the elephants? And maybe a bird too. But you were still you, and by the end of it I was me again, and then we got to ride one of the giraffes, and that was pretty cool.”

Tobio snorts lightly. “They don’t let you ride giraffes, dumbass.”

Hinata just shoves against him softly, judging against his side with a weak force, both of them still unwilling to move too much this early in the morning. “That’s why it’s a dream, Kageyama _,”_ Hinata says, fond exasperation dripping out of him like the sunrise. “They’re not supposed to be real.”

 _But you’re real,_ Tobio thinks immediately, and he almost says it out loud, before catching himself and clamping his lips shut. It’s too early for this, and perhaps it’s just how his mind hasn’t fully woken up yet that he finds himself becoming sappier by the second, filled with an untameable warmth that he can’t hope to contain.

“I _would_ like to go to the zoo again someday, though,” Hinata says, and something in his words sounds like a question, turning to look at Tobio with eagerness in his bright eyes. “Do you wanna come with me?”

“Are you asking me out on a date?” Tobio says, raising an eyebrow, feeling the brush that threatens to spill across his cheeks, ready to give away what he’s feeling in an instant. But that’s fine, now, isn’t it? Because Tobio’s given everything to Hinata already, and there isn’t a part of him that Hinata doesn’t know already. He can be honest in the simplest way he can.

Hinata blinks, surprised a little, before his grin curves into something sharper, more mischievous. “And what if I am?” Hinata asks, a challenge already rising to his lips. “What would you say to that?”

Tobio stares right at him. “I’d say yes,” he tells Hinata, not even trying to hide it, his heart beating so wildly in his chest that he’s almost certain Hinata can hear it. _For you, anything._

“Okay,” Hinata says with a small smile, looking a little surprised at Tobio’s easy bluntness but pleased all the same, his eyes shining with something indescribable. “We’ll go to the zoo then.”

It should be momentous, Tobio thinks. It should be grand and heart-stopping and magnificent, something right out of a shoujo manga, where the world seems to stop spinning, and flowers bloom even in the dead of winter. It should be something more than this—more than the simplicity that is two hearts lying on his bed, connected by the gentle touch of shoulders, daylight under his skin and in the sunny smile of love, with words that come tumbling out without proper thought, made of morning graces and spontaneity. It should be anything but the way they have done it—but it’s still _them,_ after all, and he really shouldn’t have expected anything less. They’ve always been unconventional, the space between check mark boxes, not quite fitting in with others as well as they fit in together. And in truth, Tobio will later find that he likes it this way better anyway, because it’s in that quick in-the-moment honesty that he learned to love with something careful and reckless, and it’s how he’s now able to hold a hand that fits perfectly in his.

It doesn’t matter how it’s done. Just that it is. As long as it’s good and right and true, nothing else matters.

Tobio looks over at Hinata, at this summer boy with the sunset eyes, and thinks about how he’d stayed in the dark for the last twenty-two years. How he finally sees daylight, blinding and golden and not at all like how he expected, but so much more at the same time. He knows that it’s only been a few hours, but he also believes that this is a story he will get to read for the rest of his life. Maybe others would call it foolish, the certainty within his bones, but he can’t imagine himself doing anything else, not with how long it’s taken for him to get there. How long it’s taken for them to have this all to themselves.

And for a moment, Tobio remembers the sea of lovers—the ocean, the lighthouse, and the lifeboat, and it’s with a quiet understanding that he realizes Hinata had been the way out this whole time. And right now, lying like this with Hinata next to him, his heart carrying something that he can finally keep, it’s like he’s back there again, except this time is different.

This time, all the years wash away, and suddenly Tobio is standing on the shore, with solid ground beneath his feet. No more drowning, no more sinking. Just the steady push and pull of the water around his ankles, the sand under his toes welcoming like an old friend. This time, he’s home, and he knows to stay.

And he thinks that Hinata does too.

“Hey, Tobio,” Hinata says, tugging at his shirt sleeve, grinning wickedly, and _oh_ , he knows exactly what he’s doing, with Tobio’s name on his lips, the syllables rounding them like he’s always been meant to say it, safe in his mouth, home like it’s always belonged there.

Tobio feels his face burst into flames, and he averts his eyes, his stomach mellowing out and feeling all fuzzy and warm inside, and he tries to cover his face with a hand, but Hinata laughs anyway, and Tobio groans, punching his shoulder. He misses, mostly because he isn’t looking, and Hinata giggles, propping himself up on his elbows and sneaking closer to Tobio.

“Tobio,” Hinata says again, smiling like that little gremlin he is. “Tobio, Tobio, Tobio, _Tobio_ —”

“Stop that,” Tobio manages to say, a little strangled. His cheeks feel so warm. “Oh my god.”

“Nope,” Hinata says, and grins a little loopy. “I like saying your name. It’s you. _Tobio.”_

Tobio resists the urge to smother Hinata’s face with a pillow in an attempt to get him to shut up, but his limbs are still quite useless this early in the morning—and he, well, he actually really likes it. He likes the way it makes his skin tingle, a rush through his veins that’s followed by a blanket of comfort, and it makes him feel like Hinata is closer, in a way. Why hadn’t he asked Hinata to call him this earlier?

Hinata hums, his chin resting on top of his open palm, facing Tobio with a light smile on his face, his eyes soft, that _something_ look back on his face. Tobio thinks he’s starting to understand it a little better now, and his heart swells in his chest, doubling in size with a nearly inescapable chance of bursting.

“I guess that means you can call me Shouyou too,” Hinata says, overbright and gentle all at once. “So it’s fair. But only if you want to, obviously.”

“Okay.” Slowly, he swallows, his mouth dry, a little nervous. But that’s a little ridiculous, isn’t it? It’s just a name, it shouldn’t feel as significant as it does—but then again, it’s _Hinata’s_ name. His name, like a synonym for love on his tongue, manifested into a boy made from burning skies and crystallized fire. The name Tobio knows better than he knows anything else. “ _Shouyou_.”

And it’s a little like magic, the way pink dusts Hinata’s cheeks almost instantly, something magnificent in his eyes, suddenly breathless with just one word. Tobio takes his satisfaction in this little win, even though Hinata had been the one to start it. At least now he knows how it feels, like he’s stumbled into something incandescent.

“Again,” Hinata breathes, surprising Tobio with his light insistence. “Say it again.”

“What? Why?” Tobio asks, mortified. It had already taken up so much of him to say it the first time, and there’s only so much boldness he can take in the morning. In time, he knows he’ll probably get used to it, but this is still new and shiny and he’s still trying to see through the luster.

“Because,” Hinata says with a shrug, and he has the decency to look the slightest bit embarrassed, at least. “Because it sounds—it sounds nice. Really nice. I like it. I like the way you say it.”

“How is it any different from how other people say it?” Tobio asks, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion. He tries to recall how other people have pronounced it in the past, but he can’t find anything different.

“It isn’t,” Hinata replies, pressing his palm against his cheek as ribbons of pale sunlight run across his skin. “It’s just because it’s you.”

“What about me?”

“I mean, it just—it feels different when it’s you,” Hinata says, picking at the loose threads of the blanket, a pleasant flush on the tips of his ears. “Like it’s more…it’s more, uh, _special?_ Gah, I dunno, I just—I like it. I’m sorry, is that too weird?”

“No,” Tobio blurts out, and he feels embarrassed by how quickly he’d said it, Hinata’s eyes immediately snapping back up to meet him in wonder, but it’s true. “That’s—that’s how it feels like for me too.”

“Oh.” Hinata blinks, surprised. Then slowly, a smile rises back to his lips, and it’s doing strange things in Tobio’s chest, familiar but brand new all at once. “That’s good, then,” he says, warmth in his words and gaze. “‘Cause I like it a whole lot, _Tobio.”_

“Now you’re just saying it to be cheeky, _Shouyou,”_ Tobio retorts back, but his heart is melting anyway, and Hinata laughs again. It’s taking everything in him not to tremble in the wake of this greatness—is it really okay for him to have this? Is he allowed to be this happy?

Tobio wonders if it has something to do with luck, that Hinata Shouyou had somehow chosen him back, or maybe it’s got something to do with the stars, like being each other’s fated person—but they’ve both worked too hard to simply call it that, to say it’s a lucky draw and leave it that. They’ve both _worked_ for it, haven’t they? Didn’t Hinata go all the way around the world to prove it? Didn’t Tobio wait this long to make sure that they could get there? Because back then, for the last two years, it had been a labored intimacy—not one kept by proximity, but one built and maintained by sheer force and power of will to keep choosing each other every day. That’s not something even fate can decide; the stubborn rock refuses to move until the river is forced to bend around it, just as they have rewritten their story, forging their own path unwilling to accept anything other than this. They’ve always been known for defying the odds, after all, and this, Tobio believes—this is the best case scenario.

Tobio blinks out of his thoughts when he feels a warm finger press lightly against his cheek, brushing the hair that had fallen out of his eyes. In the new clarity, he finds Hinata in the daylight, golden and bright, and Tobio swears that there isn’t any other view that could possibly compare. The breaking of dawn has always been beautiful, and this is no exception.

“Hey,” Hinata says, his fingers linking around Tobio’s and tugging them gently, rustling the sheets. “Let’s go watch the sunrise.”

“Isn’t it already too late for that?” Tobio says, glancing towards the curtain, where sunlight tries to edge its way in. “The sun’s already up.”

“I know,” Hinata says, but he’s never been one to concede once he sets his mind to it, and he pushes himself up to his knees, keeping their palms pressed against each other all the while. He pulls, though not with a lot of force. “But let’s go anyway. It’s light outside.”

Tobio kind of just wants to lie here forever, really, until he sinks into the sheets and this moment becomes permanent, with Hinata smiling and laughing and looking sleepily cute. He doesn’t move.

Hinata seems to understand, even without words. “I know, I know, you wanna stay right here,” he says, shaking his head lightly with fond exasperation. “But it’ll be beautiful out there, you know? And it’s been a while, don’t you think?”

“Been a while since what?”

He shrugs, wearing a smile that seems like a flare off the sun itself. “Since we last saw the sunrise together,” Hinata says, and it’s like yesterday too, with the sunset. Tobio’s still trying to get used to how they’re sharing horizons again, under the same sky and closer than they’ve ever been. It makes him feel a lot better, like he isn’t missing anything anymore. And he isn’t, now that Hinata’s here. “So let’s go. I’ll make us coffee.”

“You don’t even like coffee,” Tobio points out, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, but you do,” Hinata says, and Tobio’s surprised he even remembers. “I’ll make it the way you like it, with a whole lot of extra milk. Then I’ll get some tea for myself, so we both have something to drink.” He snaps his fingers. “I’ll even make us breakfast, how’s that sound?”

“You don’t have to,” Tobio says quickly. It’s still new enough that he doesn’t want to be accused of making Hinata do too many things for him—even if the thought of Hinata cooking for him _does_ sound lovely, and Hinata’s been bragging non-stop about how much better he’s gotten, so Tobio kind of wants to see if there’s any truth behind his words.

“I don’t mind,” Hinata insists. “I want us both to eat well.” He brings up their conjoined hands and swings them into the air before they land back to the ground with a soft thud. Tobio makes sure that it’s his hand that takes the fall. “Plus, I’ll finally get to show you all the new stuff I’ve learned!” he exclaims with a grin, and he looks so excited—how could Tobio possibly refuse him now? When was the last time he’d been able to say no to Hinata anyway? He can’t really remember.

Hinata tugs at him, pulling his arm to get him up. “So come on already, you big baby,” he says with a light laugh. “It’s a good morning, and I don’t want to miss it. Not now that you’re here.”

Tobio just sighs, and with Hinata’s pulling—he’s much stronger now, Tobio notes privately—he sits up, smoothing out his shirt. “Okay,” he says, waving his free hand around. “Let’s go see this morning of yours. The food better be good.”

There’s a twinkle in his eyes. “Oh, it’s gonna knock your socks off, Bakageyama, you’ll see.”

“Whatever,” Tobio says simply. Hinata lights up even more, and Tobio realizes his mistake a moment too late, because then Hinata is grinning, knowing the truth of what Tobio truly means. Maybe it’s a testament to how well they still know each other, that Hinata can still read him like an open book, and Tobio can tell what he’s thinking with just a glance.

Hinata pulls him forward then, eager and excited, pulling him into the kitchen where it’s even more golden than the bedroom, and Tobio figures that he won’t really mind that if the rest of his life is the same as it is now. With Hinata humming some cheesy pop song under his breath, Tobio watching him from the table, tracing the way daylight seems to shift around him like a focal point, it doesn’t seem bad at all. He wouldn’t mind an infinity of this, holding up beautiful things in the light while being allowed to keep it. He’s never really been one to stay still in one place for too long—but if it’s here, with Hinata, then Tobio wouldn’t mind it at all. Not one bit.

Eventually, it keeps going. They spend more days like that, rising early together to watch the sunrise and breathe in the view, making up for all their lost time. They find themselves watching the horizon line in the evenings too, the skies filled with a promise for another day with the two of them in its sights, and on some nights they get to come home to each other and fall asleep to the sound of the other’s breathing, holding each other close until it’s all they know. Sometimes Hinata drags Kageyama out of bed for midnight snack runs in the kitchen, and he pulls Kageyama in for an impromptu dance with the refrigerator light as their only guide, singing sweet and cheesy songs off-key with the wrong lyrics. And they’ll be dancing in their socks, messy and uncoordinated, but they’ll be having the time of their lives anyway—and isn’t that what really matters in the end? That by the time the night ends they still choose each other?

They’ve conquered distance, and they’ve overcome time. It no longer takes anything away from them, no longer stops them from reaching out and taking hold. Instead, they find themselves coming back to one another each and every time, keeping close to something they’ve always believed in, just as they always promised they would.

“Tobio, for the last time, _we’re not running out of milk,”_ Shouyou says exasperatedly, snatching the milk carton straight from his boyfriend’s hands and placing it back on the shelf where it belongs. There’s already two other cartons in the grocery cart between them, even if Shouyou had insisted that they didn’t need them. Kageyama had put up a dirty fight, using the _but it’s almost my birthday_ card like the cheat he is, and Shouyou had no other choice but to allow it. He’s putting his foot down on a third carton, though. That’s just too many considering what they still have back home, and _honestly,_ Kageyama doesn’t even need that many. Shouyou’s almost certain he’s just doing this just for the hell of it.

“You can never have enough,” Kageyama says, and the way he’s pouting with his arms crossed makes him look like a child and not a professional volleyball athlete. Shouyou tries not to smile. “There’s no such thing as too much, you know.”

“Yes, there is, and it’s when you’ve got five expired cartons in your fridge because you couldn’t drink them in time,” Shouyou points out, raising an eyebrow. Kageyama flushes almost immediately, and he clamps his mouth shut.

“Fine,” he grumbles after a moment. “As long as we’ll still have enough ingredients to make pork curry.”

Shouyou smiles, and pats him on the arm gently. “Yeah, don’t worry. We’ll have a whole feast for it on your birthday, I promise.”

Kageyama seems to be satisfied enough with that, and they head over to the next aisle, hoping to cross another item off their list. Technically, it’s for Shouyou’s apartment that they’re doing grocery shopping for, and he’d just asked Kageyama to tag along, but in all honesty, his apartment feels more like it’s shared between them instead—like it’s _theirs_ instead of just _his_ , with how often Kageyama is around. There’s a second toothbrush on the sink, a drawer with some of Kageyama’s clothes, a spare towel at the ready, and some of Kageyama’s own belongings scattered all over the place.

Kageyama’s own apartment back in Tokyo is a lot similar—with some of Shouyou’s clothes tucked in the closet for when he comes over, a few of his manga volumes stacked a bit messily in Kageyama’s shelves, little traces of him in every room. They don’t get to see each other that often during the volleyball season, so they take whatever opportunity they can get, alternating between apartments when they’re free. It’s rough and it’s definitely not easy, but they make it work. They’ve spent so much time apart already that they don’t want to waste another second where they could just be together instead, and they know all too well what distance feels like, and it’s easier to try and bridge the gap than simply just missing each other.

And if that also entails going grocery shopping together, well, then Shouyou’s not going to complain.

“Did we pass by the fish already? Do you remember?” Shouyou asks Kageyama, looking up from the list and whipping his head around to scan the area. Even after months of going here, all the aisles still confuse him, looking far too similar to each other and marking around him like a maze.

Kageyama shakes his head, keeping a hand on the cart. “We probably would’ve smelled it if we had.” He looks up to the signs above their heads, squinting as he attempts to read the words on them. “I think they’re over there,” he says, pointing over to the far left. “We can get the other stuff we need on the way there so we don’t have to go back for them.”

Shouyou nods in agreement, and places a hand on the front of the cart. “Onwards, Yamayama!”

He hears Kageyama sigh behind him, probably rolling his eyes at the use of an old nickname that Shouyou still won’t let go of, too stubborn to stop using something, in his humblest opinion, so masterfully crafted, the perfect nickname to use at any time. So he just grins to himself, walking with the low squeal of the wheels next to him, Kageyama’s footsteps drumming against the white tiles to an uneven rhythm. They round the next aisle, and Shouyou looks over the list to check for anything they might need. If they’re hosting Kageyama’s birthday party—which the setter reluctantly agreed to (though Shouyou’s pretty sure Kageyama had just been pretending, because he knows that Kageyama actually does like hanging around the people he’s comfortable with)—then they need an abundance of ingredients for the meals he’s going to prepare other than pork curry. Miwa offered to come over early to help them cook, so that should help lighten the load.

“Butter, butter, butter,” Shouyou mumbles to himself, finger tracing the shelf as his eyes scan over the different items, looking for the specific brand that his mom always used. “Aha! There it is!” He takes out a couple of sticks and dumps them into the cart unceremoniously, satisfied.

Kageyama comes over with bags of sugar, carrying one in each arm, and puts them down. “Here,” he says. “This should be enough. We’ve still got some back home.”

“Nice,” Shouyou says, and takes one last look around the aisle to make sure that they haven’t missed anything that they could possibly need. Once it seems that they’ve gotten all that they can, he helps Kageyama pull the cart over to the next aisle, looking over the list for what else they need. “Once we’re done with the food, we should probably stop over at the shampoo and stuff.”

“You should get the citrus one,” Kageyama tells him off-handedly, busy reading the low-hanging overhead signs. When he looks back down, Shouyou meets him with a raised eyebrow and a questioning look. Kageyama just shrugs and says, “What? I like it. It makes you…” he makes a vague sound, and waves around, “…you know.”

“Makes me what?”

Kageyama flushes, and casts his eyes down. He’s _embarrassed_ , Shouyou realizes with glee, mostly because Kageyama’s always so cute when he gets like that, bashful and awkward, and it’s endearing how he simply honest he can be about things, even when they do lead to his own mortification. “They make you smell…nice,” Kageyama mumbles after a moment, the red on his cheeks deepening like a rose blooming, and it makes Shouyou grin. “And I…I like it, so. You should get it.”

“Okay,” Shouyou says with a cheeky smile, and Kageyama only frowns a little. He can’t have that, so he skips over and loops his arm around Kageyama’s tugging him close so that their arms bump against each other. Quick as lightning, he hops up on his toes and presses a light kiss to his boyfriend’s cheek, secretly still reveling in the thrill when he can do things like this _just because he wants to,_ even when he’s already had time to get used to that. The corners of Kageyama’s lips seem to twitch upwards almost immediately, and he rolls his eyes before a smile fully rises, and Shouyou snickers to himself, pleased at how simple it had been. He’s always liked seeing Kageyama smile, and that’s never changed—instead, it seems that he enjoys it now even more now that they’re together.

“Come on, let’s go,” Kageyama says, and pulls Shouyou with him, keeping his other hand on the cart to maneuver it. They stay that way for the next two aisles, going over different brands of cooking oil and flour. Eventually, they have to adjust to just holding hands, keeping their palms pressed against each other instead, since it restricts their movement a little, but it’s just as nice, in Shouyou’s opinion. Holding Kageyama’s hand is as nice as he’s always thought it would be, a perfect fit, and even after all these months he still hasn’t gotten used to the warm and tingly sensation that comes with it, still surprised at how easy it is to just take Kageyama’s hand whenever he wants to, and find out that Kageyama doesn’t want to let go either.

As the minutes trickle by, they slowly go through the list until they’ve crossed everything off, satisfied with all the things they’ve piled into their cart. They still bicker their way through it the whole time, like when Shouyou tries to jump to reach something on the top shelf—he does it successfully, thank you very much—and Kageyama just says he could’ve just asked since he _is_ taller, after all, but that just makes Shouyou want to prove it again, except the second time his arm nearly knocks down a stack of canned food, and then they try to discreetly leave the aisle as quick as possible before anyone notices.

The realization comes to him some time a little after that, when they’re stopping over by the ice cream section, trying to decide on which is the best flavor to buy—predictably, Kageyama likes milk best, and Shouyou doesn’t really mind as long as it’s sweet—and Shouyou makes a terrible pun, which makes Kageyama laugh, genuine and soft and beautiful, and he understands it all at once. It settles comfortably inside him, and suddenly everything seems a little brighter. Like with everything that ever has to do with Kageyama—it steals the breath from him and makes his heart dance, a ballad for a slow dance, a tune that sings of both past and present, and what it’s like to have something simple and golden within reach.

Because in that moment, with the fluorescent lights on Kageyama, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he looks back and forth between two tubs of ice cream, Shouyou remembers a time when he had wanted this specifically. When he had asked for a future where he could have this, where they fall into domesticity like it’s always been a part of them, arguing over different brands of toothpaste and going through the aisles together for things to bring back to a home they share. How he’d wanted to be the one Kageyama Tobio would come home to, meeting him halfway and waking up next to him. And now he has it. Now he’s here, and this is the life he gets to live.

Now, instead of just dreaming, he stands side by side with Kageyama when they do the dishes, play-fighting without caring about how much soap is getting on their skin and hair, bubbles on his cheeks and suds all over the counter. Now, he and Kageyama bicker over whose turn it is to do the laundry, and sometimes Kageyama will stumble into the kitchen in the morning, midnight in golden yellow, and he’ll wrap his arms around Shouyou’s waist and breathe him in, sleepy and affectionate. Every day Shouyou gets to make Kageyama blush and love him the way he always has, incomparable in its vastness but easy in its simplicity. And there are times like this when he gets to remind himself about how lucky and happy he is, to finally be able to say that he has a love to keep and a heart to say, and it never fails to make him breathless each and every time. This is what he’s always wanted. It had taken him a while to adjust to not having to hold back anymore, but it’s the best feeling he’s ever had. This, what they have, it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever believed in.

He’s glad he never stopped.

“So what do you think?” Kageyama asks, snapping Shouyou out of his thoughts. He doesn’t try to hide the smile that had unknowingly risen to his lips this time, keeping himself collected with the warmth that spreads through him like a sunburst. “Rocky road or just plain chocolate?”

“We could just go with the plain one,” Shouyou tells him, pointing to the tub he holds in his left hand. “You know, since you don’t like marshmallows.”

“Yeah, but _you_ do,” Kageyama states simply. “So it wouldn’t be fair if we just got plain because of me.”

“Oh,” Shouyou says, feeling a little flattered. Is that what Kageyaam’s been thinking so hard about this whole time? “Then you can just give me your marshmallows? That’s what Natsu always did, since she doesn’t like them either.”

“Really?” Kageyama asks. “You’re okay with that?”

“Marshmallows are awesome, Tobio, and the more of them the better,” Shouyou tells him, and he takes the rocky road ice cream from his hands, instantly feeling the coolness on his fingertips from the ice that had gathered outside. He places it into their cart, balancing it on top of the other stuff they’re planning to buy. “Honestly, I don’t know why you and Natsu don’t like them that much.”

Kageyama just shrugs. “I don’t like the way it feels in my mouth.”

“Hm,” Shouyou says, starting to push the cart towards the check-out registers. “I remember one time Yamaguchi and I tried to see who could fit the most marshmallows inside our mouths.”

“Did you win?” Kageyama starts placing their items on the counter, and they watch as the little digital numbers start to go up with every swipe.

“Of course I did!” Shouyou tells him proudly, placing a closed fist to his chest. “It was really fun too! Maybe we can try it again next time!”

Kageyama hums, while Shouyou tries to remember exactly how many marshmallows he’d been able to fit in his mouth, and wondering if he can beat it now that he’s older. They pay for the groceries and are handed plastic bags, four of them in total, so they take two each. Kageyama snorts when Shouyou nearly trips on their way out (the bags are making him a little unbalanced, okay), so Shouyou tries to kick his leg and manages to get him to stumble a little bit, snickering to himself as Kageyama glares at him. It’s childish, he knows, but he can’t help it; something about Kageyama has always made him feel more at ease, like he never has to worry about what he says or does, not when Kageyama’s already seen every version of him, and still chooses to stick around. It’s like without even having to ask, Kageyama will already be looking at him, ready for whatever comes next.

It’s exciting and comforting, the overwhelming sense of familiarity between the two of them. They’ve known each other for so long that sometimes just one glance is enough to figure out what the other is feeling, but each day with Kageyama always feels brand new too, some unknown thing that he knows they’ll experience together. But Shouyou knows he doesn’t ever have to worry about the future, not as long as Kageyama’s with him, because they’ve always been invincible together, haven’t they?

“Do you want me to…” Kageyama says, tilting his head to gesture over at one of the bags Shouyou’s holding. “I could carry that for you, if you want? It looks heavy.”

Shouyou’s just about to quip back and say that he can carry it just fine, that Kageyama of all people should know how strong he is now, but then he realizes that Kageyama hadn’t meant to be condescending at all. He’s looking at Shouyou with genuine concern and the notion of being helpful. He feels a little embarrassed—Kageyama’s always been nice, of course he’d offer to lighten the load for Shouyou. He shouldn’t have ever thought otherwise. (The only exceptions are when they’re competing, obviously.)

“Ah, well, I guess you can take this one, since it’s lighter,” Shouyou says, and Kageyama nods, handing it over. This way, he can focus on carrying the other bag—it’s the heaviest, so it’s fine this way too.

To his confusion, Kageyama takes it from him only to switch it to his other hand, adjusting his grip so that his left hand holds all three. The combined weight might be around the same as the one Shouyou’s carrying, so wouldn’t it be easier to balance it out…?

Kageyama holds out his right hand. Shouyou blinks at him. “Here,” he says, the tips of his ears turning pink. “I thought it’d be easier, so that we could…uh, hold hands. If you want.”

 _Oh._ Shouyou beams, and threads his fingers through Kageyama’s without another moment of hesitation, and there’s that feeling again—that old rush of tingles, even when they’ve already done this a million times, familiar and special. It means a lot to him, like a gentle assurance that Kageyama wants this too as much as he does—not that he’s ever really doubted it, but to learn it again and again never loses its shine, never fails to make him feel warm. To be reminded that Kageyama wants to hold his hand too, laugh and trade jokes on the way home, stand close together as they hum cheesy pop songs while cooking, earning back the proximity they lost in their time away from each other. It’s a lovely feeling, and he hopes he never loses it.

Shouyou listens as Kageyama recounts his conversation with Miwa the other day, listening to the low rumble of his voice as they walk back to the apartment, the crystal sky above their heads. He remembers once, back in high school, he’d called Kageyama in the middle of the night, frantic after a nightmare, and listening to Kageyama’s voice had calmed him down. Even if he can’t remember what Kageyama said, he remembers how it made him feel, and it’s never quite left. He’d meant it before, in their first year, when he told Kageyama that he liked listening to him tell stories. No matter what kind, or what they’re about, he’ll drink it all up, bottle it like lightning, and keep it close to him. How wonderful is it, that these days it’s usually the first thing he hears in the morning? Kageyama’s voice is his favorite song, a melody with rhymes that are always a constant to comfort him, and he slips it around his shoulders like an oversized jacket.

Kageyama talks about going to see that movie sequel they’ve been talking about for weeks now, saying that they should go and watch it during the first night of the premiere, and Shouyou agrees, swinging their hands together, huffing out a laugh when Kageyama brings up one of his theories of what’ll happen, adding onto it no matter how crazy it’ll sound. His boyfriend rolls his eyes the wilder it gets, arguing that most of it wouldn’t even be practical anymore, but he nods anyway, sighing and going along with it just to humor him. Kageyama has to pull him closer when he gets too excited and nearly bumps into someone else, shaking his head in exasperation, but he’s smiling too, and Shouyou grins back.

For a moment, he thinks about all the other times this has happened. He thinks about Kageyama’s hand in his, how Kageyama carries all the bags in one hand just so that they can, and how it keeps him warm in the cold December air. He thinks about how their steps fall together in sync, just like their heartbeats do under their coats, constant and steady. He thinks about yesterday, and the day before that, and all the other days that have passed that have found them like this. He thinks about what he’s learned in that time, and how he never wants it to change.

Kageyama squeezes Shouyou’s hand when the crowd becomes thicker, keeping a tight grip so that they don’t lose each other. Without words they already know what it means, _stay close to me,_ and they press forward, always side by side. It’s all about the little things, Shouyou’s learned. Like how Kageyama will get rocky road ice cream just for him, or how he carries all the bags in one hand just so that they can hold hands. He’s learned to notice them a little better, see through the grander things, because that’s just the way Kageyama is. His love is simple.

It’s simple, and it’s quiet. It’s the sigh of relief that he breathes when he sees Shouyou after a long day, the way he texts when he’s coming home so Shouyou knows he’ll be back soon. It’s how each hug has every ounce of meaning into it, and how his hand looks for Shouyou’s when he’s sleeping, patting the space around him to find him. It’s the pork buns he buys on the way home from the store, the onigiri he shares without having to think about it, and the extra juice box he gets from the vending machine when they’re out running. How he waits for Shouyou by the door before leaving, holding it open, how he knows to offer a tissue before Shouyou even sneezes, and how he hands over his scarf even when he’s the one who gets cold easily. It’s how he laughs at Shouyou’s jokes even when they’re terrible, and how at every table he saves Shouyou a seat. It’s how Shouyou knows Kageyama mentions him often when he talks to Miwa, how he makes sure to check up with Natsu too every now and then. It’s how he tries to stay up waiting for Shouyou to come home, falling asleep on the couch when he fails, but wrapping his arms around his boyfriend once they’re both together. It’s how Kageyama had taken the time to memorize all of Shouyou, knowing him better than anyone else. It’s how Kageyama stays, and loves Shouyou on purpose, because it sure as hell isn’t easy to be together, but damn it all before they even start thinking about giving up.

It’s how love becomes the proof of beautiful things when it’s Kageyama, and how all these little things show just how strong it can be when you take care of it.

Love is a lot of things. It’s unbreakable, unstoppable, _invincible._ And even though it had taken a little time, Shouyou had learned to be patient, and for Kageyama he would do anything. He would wait years and years, and he _has,_ and he’ll spend the rest of forever loving Kageyama. And it’s with nothing but warmth and sunburst in his chest that Shouyou knows that Kageyama loves him too, that this is just another _always_ they have promised for each other. He doesn’t need to worry, not about this. The two of them—Shouyou’s never been more sure about anything else.

When they finally enter the apartment, the door clicking open, Shouyou doesn’t even give Kageyama a moment to take off his shoes before he’s pulling him into a tight hug, and peppering light kisses all over his face, feeling the heat of Kageyama’s cheeks against his palms. Sweet and slow, Shouyou presses a kiss to his lips before letting go, grinning at him with bright eyes.

“What was that for?” Kageyama says, his cheeks pink and flushed, a dazed and awed look in his eyes.

“No reason,” Shouyou just says simply. He’d just felt like it, really, when thinking about all of those things made the feeling in his chest grow too big for him to contain. Shouyou’s always been one for physical affection, anyway, and so is Kageyama. “I was just thinking.”

“Yeah?” Kageyama says, taking off his shoes and placing them neatly on the ground. “Were they good thoughts?”

“Yup,” Shouyou tells him, and he kisses Kageyama one more time for good measure, looking into those sky-eyes of his and seeing the whole world before him, twinkling like they’ve got wish-granting stars inside of them. “It was just about how much I love you.”

Kageyama blinks in surprise. “Oh,” he says, a pleased flush on his cheeks, and Shouyou thinks he’s adorable. “Well, that’s—that’s good.”

Shouyou breathes out a laugh. “It’s good?”

“Yeah,” Kageyama says, and the smile he wears is so soft, making Shouyou melt with a sunburnt heart. “Because I love you too.”

Shouyou breaks out into a smile. He wraps his arms around Kageyama’s neck to pull him in for another kiss, unable to stop himself from grinning, the happiness spilling out of him in multitudes. He likes being with Kageyama. He loves it so much. He loves _Kageyama_ so much. There’s no one else he’d ever want to be with, and he knows that his choice would be the same in every other lifetime. There’s no one else for him but Kageyama, and Shouyou hopes that they both stay like this. He hopes that they stay like this forever, grow old together and watch every day’s sunrise and sunset, spend every moment together without ever having to worry about anything else. He’s happy that he’d fallen in love with Kageyama all those years ago. It’s the best choice he’d ever made, to stay for as long as he had, and to keep doing it. And after all this time, he still wouldn’t want it any other way.

The sun is already hanging low in the sky by the time the announcement for the next station rings loudly throughout the train, the sky bleeding pinks and blues and oranges through the windows and metal floors, reflecting back on the silver handles overhead. There’s a little bit of shuffling as people begin to shift from their seats, anticipating the incoming stop, watching the city whir beyond the glass, a blur of saturated color, trees and buildings becoming a mixed watercolor painting. Tobio adjusts his grip on the handle, trying to avoid bumping into anyone. He clutches the strap of his duffel bag a little tighter as the train makes a curve, planting his feet firmly on the ground and trying to not let it sway him. It goes by smoothly enough, and he taps his feet on the ground, checking his watch for the time. Four minutes left.

Looking around, Tobio catches a glimpse of the little girl who’s been staring at him ever since he’d given up his seat for the elderly woman she was with—possibly her grandmother—her wide brown eyes watchful of his every movement. Tobio tries not to make too much eye contact, since she keeps pretending to look away whenever he turns his head, and the last thing he wants to do is _scare_ her in the middle of a train. Hinata tells him that he doesn’t look all that scary anymore, but Tobio’s almost convinced that love has blinded him, if the way that little girl is looking at him is any indication. It makes him a little nervous. Is there something on his face? Has he grown a second nose without realizing it? Maybe she’s looking at the obnoxiously yellow sweater Hinata had bought him a few months ago. He knows it had meant to be a gag gift since it was so bright, but it’s also from Hinata, and Tobio will take what he can get to feel closer to him. And if that means wearing neon sweaters like a goddamn highlighter, then so be it.

Tobio doubts someone as small as her could recognize him from his games, but the possibility is still there. Other than the occasional fan, the last kid that Tobio had interacted with was Natsu, and she seems to like him well enough, even if she is much older now than the first time they met. Though it was probably rigged in his favor from the beginning anyway, since she _is_ Hinata’s sister, and well, according to her, Hinata’s had a liking for him from the start, so maybe she’d been influenced by it. Tobio doesn’t really know what to do. If it’s about volleyball, then he can usually manage just fine, but he’s in a _train,_ and he has no idea why she’s looking at him. Do kids always stare this intensely? It’s like she knows something that he doesn’t, and it’s very unnerving.

Tobio shifts his weight to his other foot, trying not to be awkward. He sneaks another glance at the little girl, and she’s _still_ staring at him. If Hinata were here, he’d know what to do. He would’ve probably approached the little girl already, wearing that stupidly charming and sunny smile of his, winning her heart in just a matter of seconds. She’d be completely enamored by him by the time they have to step out of the train, and Tobio wouldn’t even be able to blame her. Hinata’s always has that effect on people, like you know within a meeting of him that he’s going to change your life. Tobio knows that better than anyone else does.

He considers trying to smile at her. Hinata’s said he likes Tobio’s smile—again, Tobio appreciates the sentiment but Hinata is terribly biased and blinded by love—but it’s prettiest when he isn’t trying too hard. He’s practiced enough that it isn’t _too_ scary anymore, but he’s sure that it still falls somewhere under that category, and doesn’t really want to risk freaking her out. That would just be awful, and Tobio really isn’t in the mood for it.

He checks the time again. Three minutes. Whatever, if she wants to stare then she can stare as much as she damn well pleases. Tobio’s also very good at ignoring things he doesn’t want to deal with, and this is no exception. He can just pretend that he doesn’t notice.

This _would_ be a good plan, really, if it wasn’t for how he can feel her burning holes into his back, maybe unintentionally, but forceful all the same. He glances over his shoulder again, and she squeaks when he turns her away, flicking her gaze away in an instant. She hides behind her grandmother’s leg, peeking out at him, her expression sheepish but wide-eyed in wonder. Suddenly, Tobio’s stuck with a vague sense of familiarity, and her actions remind him of someone. With one look at her eyes, Tobio knows who exactly it is.

The brown eyes just remind him of Hinata, big and curious, staring at Tobio with an unfathomable intensity that isn’t being restricted. They’re not really the same shade, not cut from the same sunset, but the similarities are there too. Maybe he’s just projecting, since he does miss Hinata a great deal, and he has a funny habit of always looking for his boyfriend in every crowd even when he knows he isn’t there. Tobio wonders what the little girl sees in him instead, or what compels her to stare this long. Don’t kids usually have short attention spans? Shouldn’t she be looking at someone else by now?

Tobio sighs. This is probably going to keep bothering him until he finally understands, and he can already hear Hinata’s bark of laughter when he tells him all about it. So with a tight grip on his bag, Tobio moves to face her direction properly, holds eye contact, and tries for a small smile. It seems to be a grimace more than anything else, but at least he can say he’d tried. He’s just about to turn back away, embarrassed in case she starts crying or something, when he finds that she doesn’t look terrified at all.

Instead, she only looks even more curious, her eyes widening by a fraction, a warm glow to her cheeks. Tobio just wants to know what she wants from him. Does she want to insult him? To tell him he’s grown a second nose? Ask for an autograph? What do kids even like these days? This is making him feel old.

Taking it as a good sign that she hadn’t ran away screaming, Tobio breathes in deeply. Here goes nothing. He raises a hand to quickly wave, small and stiff, before immediately averting his eyes in embarrassment. The regret fills him within an instant. He shouldn’t have done that. She probably thinks he’s a weirdo, and she’ll remember him as that strange guy from the train, and that’ll be his legacy instead—

She smiles at him, gap-toothed and crooked. To Tobio’s surprise and immense relief, she doesn’t seem to hate him at all, waving back with her chubby little fingers. He feels his lips twitch into another smile, and this time he tries to let it come, gentle and controlled. She grins once she sees it, her eyes lighting up as she bounces on her toes, clearly excited at being noticed. Tobio feels a little flattered even when he doesn’t know what for, so he just goes along with it.

She waves again, and so does he. It takes another moment before she skips over to him, a stuffed toy carried in her arms, looking at him eagerly. Her pigtails bounce as she goes, and she swipes them out of her eyes before she approaches him, beaming proudly.

“Uh,” Tobio says. He adjusts his grip on the overhead handle, nervous.

“Your sweater!” the little girl exclaims as a means of introduction, going straight for it and pointing a finger up to him, and Tobio feels his cheeks warm at the suddenness. Ah, so it _was_ because of the sweater. “I have one just like it!”

“Oh,” Tobio says, blinking. “That’s, um, that’s very cool. It’s really—uh, it’s really bright, isn’t it?”

“Yup!” she says, nodding fervently, determined to please. “My mom says it helps her find me when I get lost!” She looks at Tobio with an impish grin. “What about you? Do you get lost a lot too? Is that why you’re wearing it?”

“Um,” Tobio says, feeling a slight heat flood his cheeks. “No, not really.” Hinata would probably love to argue with Tobio on that though, mostly because he’s a cheeky little gremlin who won’t ever let some things go. It was _one time,_ okay, he _might_ have gotten lost for a couple hours one time when they’d gotten separated during one of their dates, but Hinata still won’t ever let him live it down.

“Huh,” she says, frowning and slumping a little, looking a bit disappointed.

Tobio panics. He doesn’t want to make her upset. “I mean—I still do, sometimes,” he adds quickly, and _god_ , this is embarrassing. Is he really admitting this to a kid? “Yeah, um, this was a gift, because I get lost sometimes too.”

“Really?” she says, perking up instantly, her whole face lighting up. “My mom also says it’s because I get distracted super easily, but that’s only ‘cause she goes shopping a lot, and that’s _really_ boring, you know? And she never lets me buy toys, which is _so_ unfair—”

“Mika-chan,” a voice says a little sternly, and catches both of their attention. It’s the little girl’s grandmother, and she offers Tobio an apologetic grin. “You’re not bothering this young man, are you?”

“I’m not!” she exclaims, pouting slightly. “I’m not bothering him, I promise! I just wanted to talk to him!” Mika looks back up at Tobio with big puppy eyes, her voice hopeful. “Right?”

“Yeah,” Tobio blurts out, biting the inside of his cheek. “It’s—it’s fine.”

There’s a moment that passes as the woman considers, and she smiles at Tobio warmly, her skin wrinkling by the sides of her eyes. “She can get too excited sometimes,” she tells Tobio, taking her granddaughter’s hand. “But if you’re certain you don’t mind, well, she seems to have taken a liking to you.”

“Yeah!” Mika says, bouncing on her toes. She grins again, and softly giggles to herself. “I actually thought you were kinda scary at first, but you’re super duper nice!”

“I—uh—thank you,” Tobio says, a little strained and awkward. He doesn’t really know what else to say. Is he supposed to keep talking? How does this work? Should he ask her about volleyball?

“I’m from Nagano!” she tells him cheerily, bouncing on her toes. “We’re visiting nii-chan at school! He plays baseball!”

“Oh,” Tobio says. He doesn’t know anything about baseball. “That’s…nice. I’m sure he works hard.”

“What about you?” the grandmother asks, looking at him with a kind smile. “Where are you from?”

“Miyagi,” Tobio answers easily enough. Thankfully, he can feel a little of his awkwardness beginning to melt away. This isn’t too hard. He’s never been that good at small talk, but he can manage for just a few more minutes, can’t he?

“We’ve been there before!” Mika says excitedly, pressing her palms together. She hops onto the seat next to her grandmother, swinging her legs. Tobio feels a little too big for the space all of a sudden. “Right, obaa-chan?”

“Yes, dear,” the grandmother says with a small nod, taking Mika’s hand. She focuses her attention back on Tobio. “If you don’t mind my asking, but what brings you out here then?”

“Are you visiting someone too?” Mika asks, her eyes bright and wide.

“I—yeah,” Tobio says, slightly shrugging his shoulders. He feels his cheeks warm, flustered and embarrassed, but also excited for what’s to come. It’s been far too long. “It’s a little bit like home too.”

The old lady smiles knowingly. “Ah, it’s a wonderful feeling, isn’t it? Having someone to come home to?”

Tobio flushes again, and he rubs his palms against his jeans. “Yeah,” he says after a moment, face stained pink from more than just the afternoon light, thinking of how much the orange-streaked sky reminds him of something more than what words could ever give him. “It really is.”

Before either of them can say anything else, another announcement rings out loudly throughout the train compartment, this time to tell all the passengers that they’ll be arriving at the station within a minute. Tobio feels his heart soar in his chest, skipping beats at the prospect of finally arriving. Across him, Mika and her grandmother begin to collect their things, and Tobio tightens his grip on his bag. In his ears he can hear the rhythm of his own chest, like a drizzle thumping against his ribs. He can’t wait.

The train starts to slow down as pieces of the station start to come into view from the windows, unaffected by the bleeding sky, and Takes a deep breath as it comes to a full stop, and waits for the doors to slide open. He lets other people go before him, not wanting to get caught up in the crowd and bumped around, waiting until most of the passengers have stepped out.

“You take care of yourself now,” the old lady says to him warmly, a smile on her lips. Tobio nods, bowing his head a little. “Come on, Mika-chan. It’s time to go.”

“Bye!” Mika says with a grin and a wave. “Don’t get lost, okay?”

“I won’t,” Tobio tells her, and she beams at him one last time, satisfied by his answer, before she skips to her grandmother’s slide, taking her hand as they both step out of the train. Tobio takes another breath and follows suit, stepping out into the platform and open space.

He’s immediately overwhelmed by the sea of people milling around during rush hour, waiting by the seats or leaning against the walls, chattering to one another or talking loudly on the phone. He tries looking around for the exit, or a familiar head of bright orange hair. He’s been here enough times that the station is mostly familiar to him already, but he can’t spot Hinata anywhere. He promised to meet Tobio once he arrived, so he should be around here somewhere.

Tobio tries to move through the thick crowd, apologizing when he bumps into people, but stubbornly moving forward, scanning all the faces around him for the person he knows. Maybe Hinata had gotten the time wrong, or got distracted—he’d been late once because there was a kitten that wouldn’t stop following him around—and Tobio would probably just let it slide, to be honest, because Hinata can be absolutely ridiculous but honest about these kinds of things. And it’d be fine, if it weren’t for the fact that it’s been months since they last saw each other because of all their games and training, and Tobio would really like to see him again. He’s missed him.

A few moments later, just as Tobio’s walking past another row of seats, making his way towards a clearer space—he hears it. The familiar echo of a voice he’s only been able to listen to through static and phone calls for the last few weeks, and it’s really nothing compared to hearing it in real life. After all this time, it still manages to light a fire inside of him, burning bright and warm, and Tobio quickly snaps his head, looking for the source.

He should’ve figured he’d hear Hinata before he saw him.

“ _Tobio!_ ” Hinata calls again, and in a split-second, Tobio turns his head to see a blur of orange running towards him before they collide, and he stumbles a little backward, trying to get his footing back. He feels Hinata wrap his arms around his waist, pulling him closer and wrapping him in a tight hug. He feels his feet lift off the ground for a second before Hinata puts him back down, beaming up at him with that same old fiery spark in his eyes, the one that’s never failed to get Tobio’s heart skipping just by the flicker of it. “Tobio! You’re here!”

“I’m here,” Tobio says with a gentle smile, and Hinata steps back, releasing his hold on him. His hand slides down to lace with Tobio’s, warm and familiar, squeezing it two times like a heartbeat. “I missed you.”

Hinata seems to brighten up even more at Tobio’s words, grinning wide and toothy. He remembers when a confession like that would have come out of his mouth like half-formed stutter, but it’s been so long since then, and with practice and time, they’ve learned to slip out of his tongue a little easier, and he doesn’t have to worry about the consequences, not when they’ve turned into gentler blessings instead. Tobio’s almost sure that it also has something to do with proximity to Hinata, just like how the rightness of the world is measured against it, when Hinata’s always patient enough to wait around for him to say what he really means, encouraging and supportive that it still feels like something beyond him even now. Overtime, he’s gotten better at words. Maybe it’s not a perfectly practiced art yet, but there are some things that you just learn as you go.

“I missed you too!” Hinata says back without the slightest hint of hesitation. He tugs at Tobio’s hand to try and pull him along, and they start walking towards the exit, where night is beginning to fall with the slowly fading colors of the sky. “So how was the ride? Did anything interesting happen?”

Tobio knew Hinata would ask that. “Nothing, mostly,” he tells his boyfriend as they step outside of the station, the cool night air instantly filling his lungs. “Except for the last part. But you have the promise not to laugh.”

Hinata raises an eyebrow, and because he’s absolutely terrible at doing what Tobio says, his lips twitch upwards, a telltale sign of an oncoming smile. “When have I ever laughed at you?”

Tobio gives him a pointed look.

Hinata just breathes out a laugh, a skip in his step, and he holds his free hand up. “Okay, okay,” he says, but of course he’s already smiling, and Tobio just resigns himself to his fate in exasperation. “I won’t laugh. Promise.”

Tobio knows Hinata’s probably gonna laugh anyway, since he’s never really been good at containing it, so he sighs, preparing himself for the embarrassment that’s about to come.

“There was a little girl,” Tobio says and Hinata immediately perks up in interest, swinging their joined hands together high. “She kept staring at me the whole time. It was really weird.”

Hinata hums, watching for the streetlight, the last fight’s worth of sunlight hitting his hair and turning him golden. “Really?” he asks, amusement in the lilt of his voice. “Did you talk to her?”

Tobio cringes. “Yeah.” He averts his gaze away, instead focusing on the flickering streetlight up ahead, but he can feel Hinata’s curious eyes on him, even more interested than before. “She came up to me, and… You know I’m not…I’m not good with kids.”

Hinata laughs again, teasing and light. He bumps into Tobio’s arm, swaying a little on his feet. “That’s not all true,” he says, a sharpness to his grin. “You’re okay with those little kids who ask for your autograph. Still a little awkward, but they all like you!”

Tobio just makes a non-committal sound, a little disbelieving. He supposes that there’s _some_ truth to Hinata’s words, but like he’d thought earlier—at least then there was volleyball as a common ground, and Tobio still doesn’t always know what to say. He’s not like Hoshiumi, who’s always saying something loud and semi-inspirational, even if it does come off a little too extra sometimes.

“And you were great with Natsu, remember?” Hinata says, holding up a finger in the air and waving it around. “She loved you! I still have the pictures from the first time she gave you a make-over, you know. I have the evidence.”

“But that’s ‘cause she’s your sister,” Tobio grumbles under his breath. “You liked me, so obviously she liked me too.”

“Heh,” Hinata says, a crooked grin and all, not looking the slightest bit sheepish. “But hey, even if she wasn’t, you’ve got that Tobio charm! She would’ve liked you eventually.”

Tobio raises an eyebrow. “‘Tobio charm’?”

“Yeah!” Hinata exclaims, his grip on Tobio’s hand tightening slightly as they cross the street, walking past the traffic lights. “You’re kinda…you’re like an acquired taste!”

“An…acquired taste?”

“Yup!”

Tobio doesn’t really know whether to be flattered or insulted, so he settles in something that vaguely resembles a smile, uncertain and looking at Hinata with confusion. “Thanks…?”

Fortunately, Hinata seems to pick up on it, and continues, keeping his steps light as he swings their hands together back and forth. “What I mean is,” he says, pressing their palms together with a gentle pressure. “You remember how you didn’t like that new flavor of candy you had to buy when all the strawberry ones ran out?”

Tobio thinks of the wrinkled candy wrapper tucked deep into his pocket. “Yeah.”

“You hated it,” Hinata says, and Tobio nods, agreeing. He didn’t like the texture of it on his tongue, and the aftertaste was always too strong. “But then it was the only thing they sold, right? And you kept buying them, so eventually you started to like them too. An acquired taste.”

Hinata smiles at him, gentle and soft. “And you’re like that. At the start, you’re kinda prickly and awkward and weird, but after a little time, you get used to it, you know? And then you become all familiar and comforting instead.” Hinata flashes him a smile, squeezing his hand. “It’s a good thing, I promise.”

Tobio just makes a weird noise, unsure of what to say. Even after so long, he’s never gotten quite used to the way Hinata manages to turn a bad thing into something better. He makes things simpler.

“And if you think about it, it was like that with us too!” Hinata says, and he crosses into Tobio’s space, pressing against his arm. “We didn’t get along that well at the start, but now you’re my favorite person in the whole world!”

At that, Tobio feels his cheeks warm a little bit. It’s not like this is the first time Hinata is making something like that—something so _personal—_ known, but it still catches him a little off-guard. Almost like Hinata will never run out of ways to tilt Tobio’s world out of balance and cause him to spin back into his orbit.

“Dumbass,” Tobio mutters, but the nickname is soft-edged on his tongue, light like an old nickname. He doesn’t feel compelled to say it back, either, because he’s sure that Hinata already knows. They don’t really need words for stuff like that, not when all the proof lies in all the miles Tobio had travelled to get here. Instead, he just curls his lips into a small smile and shakes his head. Hinata hums happily.

“So,” Hinata says. “What did you talk about? Did she know who you were?”

“I don’t think so,” Tobio answers back. “She told me she liked my sweater.”

Hinata immediately grins, just like Tobio knew he would. “Oh, she did now, did she?”

“Yeah,” Tobio says, trying not to roll his eyes at how clearly Hinata tries to suppress another smile. “She says it helps her be found when she gets lost. I’m guessing it happens a lot.”

“Sounds familiar.”

“Shut up,” Tobio retorts, elbowing Hinata to wipe that cheeky smile right off his face. His boyfriend only dodges with perfection. “Her grandmother was there too. She asked me where I was from.”

“Miyagi, of course,” Hinata supplies for him, looping his arm around Tobio’s so they’re pressed together instead, and the familiar feeling of Hinata next to him makes Tobio feel warm all over. “It’s been a while since we’ve been home, huh?”

“Yeah,” Tobio agrees, nodding a little. He and Hinata had gone back for the holidays, but it’s been a few months since then too. However, there’s a part of him that doesn’t really mind that much. There’s something inside of him that’s content just right where he is, and Tobio has no doubt that it has something to do with the boy next to him, a wistful smile on his lips as he’s careful not to step on any cracks on the pavement, a young mannerism, placing one foot directly in front of another.

Because when Tobio thinks of _home_ , he thinks of the stars on the tip of Hinata’s tongue, the flowers that bloom with each of his words, and the vast ocean that claims the spaces in his rib cage. He thinks of the boy with the sunset eyes and the incandescent grin, who took his hands and told him all about forever. He thinks of the boy who’s at the station each and every time, waiting for him to come home. The one who’s promised to stay for as long as he can.

Maybe that’s why it doesn’t really matter to him. He could be anywhere else in the world and he wouldn’t mind, not if Hinata was by his side. He knows it’s cheesy, and Hinata would probably laugh at him if Tobio ever told him, but it doesn’t make it any less true. It’s honest, and maybe others would think it strange for him to feel so strongly, but then again, there has never been anyone else for Tobio but Hinata. In this life and all others, he’s sure it’s the same, and that his soul will always be searching for that endless summer sun no matter where he goes.

Hinata Shouyou is the love of his life. How could there possibly be anyone else?

“You’re smiling,” Hinata says, sounding a little amused as he nudges Tobio lightly on his side, a curious look in his eyes. “What for?”

“Am I not allowed to smile?” Tobio asks back, feeling a little embarrassed at being caught, but only because mushy thoughts can still get the better of him sometimes. Ah, he really has grown soft, hasn’t he? Hinata’s got that effect on people—or maybe it’s just Tobio. It’s a kind of love that’s lasted for a long time now, after all, and he isn’t that all surprised.

“No, I just missed it,” Hinata says, and there’s that old, familiar sensation again, a swooping feeling in his stomach that assures him Hinata still manages to take his breath away. “It’s always been my favorite, you know?”

Tobio flushes, and he shakes his head, because of course Hinata would say something like that. And of _course_ Tobio would still feel this way even when he knows he should probably be used to it, but Hinata has this funny way of making him feel younger, like he’s a teenager again, still wondering what it’s like to face the sun. It still feels like the first time, and to be honest, Tobio doesn’t want that to ever change.

“Hey, what do you want for dinner?” Hinata asks him as they enter a street lined with different restaurants, golden lights dancing around on the concrete, buildings beginning to light up as night starts to fall. It’s a bit busy around here, but not so much that they’d probably have to wait too long to eat. But before Tobio even opens his mouth to speak, Hinata holds a finger up and adds, “And you’re not allowed to say pork curry.”

“But—”

“Sweetheart, we can have that back at home, but we should try something new!” Hinata says back, raising an eyebrow at him. He gestures to all the shops around them, and okay, a lot of the food on the menu _does_ look appetizing, but you can never go wrong with pork curry. “Look at all of these choices!”

“Fine,” Tobio says, and Hinata grins. Ah, there it is again—that soft feeling in his chest. Maybe he’s got to learn to live with this softness for the rest of his life, if this only the beginning. “We can try that one over there?” he says, pointing to one of the restaurants a little further down the street. He thinks he recognizes the name as one Miwa had recommended to him before, so it should be pretty good.

“Okay!” Hinata says, and without wasting another moment, he grabs Tobio’s hand to pull him along, bright under the starlit sky and lantern lights. Tobio can only watch him as they go, keeping his eyes on Hinata, and thinks that maybe that young, storm-eyed kid had the right decision after all, to fall for something so impossible, so invincible. He never should have never thought otherwise, or wished it gone—if he’d known that this was where it would lead him, with a heart far too big inside of his chest for the most beautiful boy he’s ever known, then maybe he would’ve said something sooner. But that time taken and spent is what makes it all the more sweeter, too, isn’t it? What matters is that they’d gotten here at the end, and Tobio knows of nothing but love. That long story short, they’d found their way together, weaved their invisible strings together so closely nothing could dare try and untangle it, grew into love until they were shaped by it.

And as they eat dinner, Hinata’s eyes like fireworks and smile like an infinite summer sky, Tobio knows it was all worth it in the end. He’s glad that those two countryside kids found their way through the darkness, emerging victorious with their hands held together, never to be separated. It’s the only ending he would have ever settled for.

This is everything he could ever want.

“Tobio, if you don’t get up, we’re going to be late,” Shouyou calls over to the bed, where the blanket is lumped with a bunch of pillows, terribly messy and rustled. The lump only groans in response, shifting ever so slightly, but more or less unchanged, giving no sign of getting up. “ _Tobio._ ”

“‘m sleepy,” is the only reply Shouyou gets, muffled under the covers, and he only rolls his eyes, both fond and exasperated all at once, as he continues to button up his shirt. Smoothing out the creases, he walks over to the bed, and tries to tug at the blanket

“It’s five in the afternoon,” Shouyou says back, managing to pull it enough that slips of Kageyama’s hair begin to peek out from under the covers. “How could you possibly be sleepy?”

There’s only another groan and a muffled sound he can’t quite make out. He shakes his head again, a small amused smile slipping onto his lips. It’s a little _endearing_ , to say the least, and it’s honestly a bit stupid to think that this is the sort of thing he’s waited so long for—but there’s only so much you can do when Kageyama Tobio is the person you’ve promised yourself to, and Shouyou doesn’t think he’d ever want anything else besides it. He likes it just the way it is.

Even if they _are_ going to be late if Kageyama doesn’t get up in time.

Walking over to the other end of the bed, Shouyou puts his hands on his hips and says, “Okay, this is your last chance, Bakageyama. You’ve got five seconds.”

“Mmf.”

He sighs, rolls his shoulders back, and prepares himself. “You _know_ drinking tea after lunch makes you sleepy. You’ve got no one to blame but yourself.”

“Hhng.”

“Tobio, if we’re late, Miwa-san’s going to kill us.”

No response.

Shouyou sighs again, and decides that he’s had enough. If Kageyama’s going to be stubborn about it, then so will he. Placing both of his hands firmly on the edge of the bed to grip the blanket, Shouyou yanks it as hard as he can, fully revealing his dumb boyfriend, who only groans and curls further into himself. Kageyama reaches out a hand for a pillow, but Shouyou’s much quicker since he’s _awake_ , and he manages to snatch it away before Kageyama can get to it. That only seems to make Kageyama even more determined, rolling to his other side, and burying his head into his arms.

Exasperated, Shouyou wraps a hand around Tobio’s arm and pulls as hard as he can. It’s a little hard, since Kageyama is heavy, but Shouyou’s plenty strong. Kageyama groans, his eyes flitting open for just a moment, his lips pressed into an irritated scowl. It’d be more effective if he didn’t look so sleepy, hair all messed up and eyes still bleary. Shouyou tries not to laugh at how silly he looks, since he’s supposed to be the serious one here, but he can’t help the small smile that slips through anyway.

He manages to get Kageyama to sit up properly, but his eyes are still closed, his forehead tipping forward as sleep threatens to take him away once more. Shouyou presses his lips together. That definitely won’t do, and while it probably won’t take Kageyama long to get ready, there’s no doubt that the train stations will be busy at this hour.

“Seriously, Tobio, you have to get up,” Shouyou says, nudging at his arm. His boyfriend makes no sign of moving, which only makes him sigh once more. “Hey, if you get up right now, I’ll make us cookies tomorrow. We can even do it together! I’ll teach you!”

Kageyama doesn’t even open his eyes.

Shouyou blows out a breath. “We’ll have a movie night too! What do you say?”

Still no reply.

Shaking his head, he decides that he’s only got one option left. “Fine,” he says. “You can pick the movies, and I won’t argue. _Even_ if we watch _Happy Feet_ twenty more times, I won’t complain a single bit.”

 _Finally,_ that seems to sway him, and Kageyama blinks his eyes open. They’re startling blue in the fading orange daylight, and if Shouyou wasn’t so exasperated by him he would’ve had his breath stolen away for the thousandth time, a clear cut diamond fragment in his small home.

“Promise?” Kageyama asks, his voice coming out soft and barely even above a whisper, croaky with sleep crystallized on the edges. There’s a yawn that escapes his lips not shortly after, sleep still hanging onto his bones.

Shouyou crosses his arms, shaking his head in light amusement. “Yes, I promise. Now will you please get up? I don’t want to upset Miwa-san.”

Even in his still half-asleep state, Kageyama manages a scoff, waving a hand around in the air half-heartedly. “Miwa? She could never be upset with you. She _loves_ you,” he says, stretching his arms in the air as he gets up on his feet. Shouyou throws a pillow at him just for fun, and frowns when Kageyama dodges just in time. Of course he’d still have perfect reflexes despite just waking up. “Sometimes I start to think she loves you more than she loves me.”

Shouyou just snickers, looking at himself in the mirror one more time and finding that he’s satisfied. “Oh, definitely,” he says, shooting Kageyama a cheeky grin from where he stands in front of the closet. “She once told me I’m like the brother she never had.”

Kageyama rolls his eyes, and Shouyou laughs, feeling himself light up in amusement. “Dumbass,” his boyfriend mutters, and that only makes Shouyou smile wider. “Whatever, you can take her. Natsu loves me anyway.”

Shouyou sticks his tongue out at that. “That’s not true,” he says, and okay, maybe Natsu is definitely nicer to Tobio than she is to her own brother, but it’s not like he’s just about to admit that to Kageyama. In truth—and this is something he will not say out loud—he’s incredibly relieved that Natsu and Kageyama still get along so well even after all this time. There’d even been a couple of times when Kageyama had gone to help her out with volleyball practice when Shouyou was away in Brazil. “She loves me the most!”

“Sure, I’ll let you believe that,” Kageyama says back, and Shouyou blows a raspberry at him, like the mature and responsible adult that he is. Kageyama’s head sticks out of the hole of his shirt when he asks, “Where’s the restaurant anyway? I haven’t looked it up.”

“Downtown, I think,” Shouyou answers, sitting down on the bed. He picks his phone up, swiping it open. There’s a few texts from Bokuto, another few frm Kenma, a missed phone call from his mom that he reminds himself to come back to, and a picture of a funny-looking fish from Nishinoya. “It’s twenty minutes by train. It might be a bit busy, though.”

“How’s Natsu?”

“She told me her train left half an hour ago, so she should be there on time. Have you heard from Miwa-san?”

Kageyama nods, seemingly pleased with his appearance as he looks in the mirror. “She told me an hour ago that she was already leaving.” He shrugs. “She likes being early.”

“Unlike someone I know.”

Kageyama makes a face at him. Shouyou expertly dodges the sock Kageyama throws his way.

“Oh, hey, do you think we could stop at a convenience store on our way back home? There’s a couple stuff I need to buy,” Shouyou says, and Kageyama hums in agreement, settling into the spot next to him. Almost instinctively, their hands find each other, a movement that needs no instruction, a habit older than both of them, their fingers interlacing, loose and easy. It’s a warmth that Shouyou cannot find anywhere else—believe him, he’s tried. One he could never replace, or even begin to dream to. And now that he has it, there’s not a single part of him that intends on ever letting go.

When Shouyou feels Kageyama rest his head against his shoulder, he squeezes their hands together, a light smile gracing his lips. “You’re still sleepy, aren’t you?”

Kageyama buries his head further into the crook of his neck, and Shouyou sighs. His heart has never been the kind to harden too much, and it has always been gentlest when Kageyama Tobio is around. He’s never been able to hold out for too long. “Fine, you can sleep for five minutes. But _only_ five. Then we have to go, okay?”

“Okay,” Kageyama mumbles, and Shouyou hums a soft song under his breath, one that he knows Kageyama likes, to lull him a softer way into sleeping.

Shouyou figures he’ll let the time pass by using his phone, responding to messages and telling his mom that he’ll call her after dinner, so that way Natsu will be there too. He opens up social media and scrolls aimlessly, liking photos of his friends and watching some volleyball videos. He smiles when he sees a recent picture that Oikawa had posted, one of him and Iwaizumi in California, sitting by the beach with Iwaizumi’s arm around his shoulders, the city lights reflecting on the water stretched out before them. He remembers the day he’d received a message from Oikawa saying he’d done it, _Shouyou, I rewrote it,_ and he hadn’t been able to stop himself from bursting out into a smile, grinning so wide that Kageyama had paused from where he was reading to ask him what had happened. Kageyama tried his best to look indifferent, but Shouyou knows him, and he could tell that Kageyama was happy for them at the very least.

Shouyou’s just happy that it worked out for Oikawa too.

Just as he glances at the clock, the five minutes almost up, his phone rings. Shouyou winces, and quickly presses the answer button so as to not disturb Kageyama too much. It doesn’t work too well, and Kageyama stirs, lifting his head up, blinking owlishly as he tries to shake off whatever short dream he may have had. Shouyou looks at him apologetically before turning back to the matter at hand, pressing his phone to his ear.

“Hello?”

“Ah, is this Hinata Shouyou?”

“Yes, it is. Um, who is this?”

“My apologies. This is Hibarida Fuki.”

Shouyou freezes on the spot. He _knows_ that name. Hibarida Fuki—

“The coach of the national team,” Shouyou breathes out. He thinks back to the date on the calendar, counts down the months before the highly anticipated sports event of the year, his eyes widening. His heart begins to pick up, sprinting like it’s running a marathon, and Shouyou takes a deep breath. Next to him, Kageyama seems to be more alert, the words Shouyou had said picking up his curiosity. Of course, since Kageyama already had a position on the national team at the 2016 Olympics, he was one of the first to be invited again, and Shouyou had been ecstatic about it. And of _course_ Shouyou had hoped he would be the same.

But if this—if this is truly what he thinks it is, if the right words will slip from this man’s tongue—well, Shouyou hadn’t expected it to happen so soon.

“Yes, indeed. I assume you have an idea as to why I am calling then,” Hibarida says with a light chuckle. Shouyou’s heart stutters in his chest. He’s squeezing Kageyama’s hand hard, and it feels like he’s sitting at the top of a rollercoaster, right at the highest peak, just waiting for the drop to come. “We would like to invite you to the national team for the 2020 Olympics.”

Shouyou’s heart bursts.

It’s a bit of a blur after that, Shouyou’s head spinning as he tries to process everything that’s being said to him. He says yes immediately—there was never another option—and Kageyama’s squeezing his hand back, a proud, happy smile on his face, wider than Shouyou’s ever seen it. He hadn’t even needed to hear the words to understand. His eyes shine almost as though he’d known all this time, and Shouyou—well, Shouyou had dreamed, and he had worked hard, _so hard_ , and still it feels too surreal that it’s happening to him at all. If it weren’t for Kageyama’s tight grip, Shouyou thinks he might’ve floated away now, ungrounded, up and up into the clouds. He thinks he’s crying.

He ends the call with his voice shaky but determined, and he can’t help but feel so _light,_ and he can’t stop _beaming._ Immediately after the line disconnects, he throws his arms around Kageyama to tackle him into a hug, face flushed with happiness. _Holy shit,_ he thinks to himself incredulously. _I’m going to be an Olympian._ He doesn’t even think he has the right words to express what he feels—because on some level, he had known he was good enough for it, felt that it was attainable, but to have it here and now, laid before him for him to keep—it’s incredible. He doesn’t know what to say.

“I always knew you’d make it,” Kageyama says after a moment, a light laugh escaping his lips. His forehead is pressed against Shouyou’s, a gleam in his eyes so bright that it’s unmistakable for anything else but pure joy and pride.

“The top of the world, Tobio,” Shouyou breathes out, still a little bewildered. “ _The top of the world._ Just like we promised. I can’t believe it.”

Kageyama presses a kiss to his forehead, and there is something gentle in the way he’s looking at Shouyou, an indescribable gaze that words have no name for, only for the eyes to understand, and it makes him feel like a drizzle, miraculous even in the broad daylight. Maybe other people would see it and call it _pride_ , or even _trust_. Perhaps it’s a mix of both, of knowing, of fulfillment and finding something to keep. But Shouyou knows what it is even without even needing to rearrange the letters. It’s _invincible,_ as they have always been, this time even more so. Far greater than anything it could possibly leave behind.

“I’m so proud of you,” Kageyama says, and Shouyou doesn’t waste another second before pulling him into a quick kiss. He feels lit up from the inside out, and he’s honestly glad that Kageyama is here with him to witness it. There’s no other person he would have wanted by his side or would have told first. Oh, he can’t wait to tell Natsu and Miwa about this, they’ll be so excited, and he’ll have to tell Yachi and Yamaguchi and Tsukishima and Kenma and Bokuto—he can’t wait to tell _everyone_ , to show them that he made it. To finally stand on that grand stage for the whole _world_ to see. _Hinata Shouyou,_ the crowds will cheer, the spotlights on him, and Shouyou will play his heart out.

“I just—I can’t believe—” Shouyou tries to say, breathless, but the laughter that bubbles out of him takes over, still bewildered and disbelieving. He runs a hand through his hair. “It’s incredible, it’s—it’s—amazing—”

“ _You’re_ amazing,” Kageyama says, looking completely genuine and serious. It knocks the air right out of his lungs, and Shouyou can’t breathe, caught in the sunshine that he finds in Kageyama’s eyes, the collision of daybreak and dusk.

He wraps his arms around Kageyama’s shoulders again, pulling him in for a tight hug. There are tears slipping down his face, he knows, and he’s probably ruining Kageyama’s new shirt, but he can’t really bring it in him to care. He laughs, his shoulders shaking, and he’s honestly just so damn _happy_ that he doesn’t know what to make of himself.

They stay like that for a few more moments, Kageyama’s thumb rubbing circles on the back of Shouyou’s hand, simply relishing in the news. He’ll be on the national team— _with Kageyama._ It’s been so long since they’ve played together in an official match, side by side, and Shouyou can’t even begin to imagine what it’ll feel like to be up there on the stage. Maybe it’ll feel like old times, like high school except better, with the unyielding trust that Kageyama will always be there to set the ball his way, to stand next to him, and that Shouyou will never let another one of Kageyama’s tosses hit the ground if he can help it, that he will _be there_.

And looking at Kageyama now, with his heart expanding like a great blue sky, Shouyou already knows what jersey number he’d pick.

Eventually, they get ready again because Shouyou reminds himself that they really ought to get going, and he doesn’t want to keep Miwa waiting too long. Kageyama hands him a coat, Shouyou tosses him the scarf he’d left on the bed, and they slip into their shoes by the doorway, making sure to bring the keys with them. There’s a small flurry of snow when they step out into the open air, snowflakes dusting every corner and falling from the sky like gentle rain. Winter seems like it will be kind this year, and Shouyou is grateful—there’s nothing quite like spending the holidays curled up inside the warmth of their home, watching the sun set amidst the silver-white colors of skyfall. He’s looking forward to it.

When they stop at a streetlight, waiting for the light to turn green, Shouyou notices Kageyama rubbing his hands together, his nose already glowing pink from the cold. He smiles to himself, a little amused. Kageyama’s never been one for the winter, something he still finds funny to this day, and the thought of it brings a certain fondness inside his chest. The cure is quick to come to his mind, and in one easy swoop, he takes Kageyama’s hands in his own, and rubs them slowly together. Kageyama’s hands are freezing against Shouyou’s, and he does his best to warm them up. It’s almost routine by now whenever they’re out and he notices that Kageyama’s freezing. Funny, isn’t it, he thinks, that if this were years ago he would have shied away from the mere thought of it, but now it’s almost a reflex, a given for him to move.

“Thanks, Shou,” Kageyama says, a light smile gracing his own lips. Shouyou’s seen it a million times, in dreams and in photos and in the space next to him, but it’s never lost its shine, never became any less breathtaking than it was the first time. Almost like it’s enough to make him fall in love all over again, just like the first time, and Shouyou will never be able to have enough of it.

Kageyama’s hand doesn’t leave Shouyou’s even when they begin walking again, and there it is again, the thought that he knows for sure, that he’s kept for years now. The truth that his hands were made for holding Kageyama’s with the way they fit together perfectly, shaped into holding a hand in his with a love greater than he’s ever known. He doesn’t think they’ve ever been meant for holding anything else.

That’s okay. Shouyou doesn’t ever plan on letting go.

Tobio is halfway through a sports magazine, the afternoon warm and peaceful around him, when the door clicks open, stirring the quiet. He puts down the magazine to tilt his head in the direction of the sound, and finds Hinata coming in, shrugging his jacket off and toeing off his shoes, placing the bag of pork buns on the kitchen counter. He’d gone out earlier because he said he wanted some for old time’s sake, and Tobio said he’d be fine staying home for a bit. Besides, he had Volleyball to keep him company.

But with the sound of Hinata home, the said cat is quick to jump off from where she’d been lying on the arm of the couch, padding across the floor to find him, clearly excited to see him again. Tobio only looks at her in amusement, adjusting the pillow behind his head to be more comfortable. They’d adopted her a few months ago, a little thing with bright orange fur and the darkest eyes Tobio’s ever seen, and Hinata had become smitten with her immediately—naturally, Volleyball absolutely _adored_ Hinata too. But the real reason why they’d picked her back at the shelter is because she’d been the only one not to shy away from Tobio, nuzzling her head into his open palm the moment he’d hesitantly approached, and in that moment Hinata had looked at him, and the decision was made even without the words.

“Ah, hello, sweetheart!” Hinata says happily, his voice soft and fond. From what Tobio can see, he picks her up in one easy swoop, ruffling her fur in delight. “Was Tobio good to you? He wasn’t too boring, was he?”

“Oi!” Tobio exclaims, scowling, and he hears Hinata let out a bark of laughter. With the sound of a couple more footsteps, Hinata moves so that Tobio finally has a clear view of him. His boyfriend gently drops Volleyball back to the ground, and he doesn’t really have time to prepare before Hinata is running up to the couch towards him, arms thrown wide. “What are you—”

“Oof,” Hinata says as he lands on top of Tobio, his chin pressed on top of Tobio’s chest, legs already entangled together. He grins up at Tobio, bright and _cheeky_ , breathing out a laugh. Up close, Tobio finds that there are the tiniest snowflakes right on the tips of Hinata’s eyelashes, his cheeks still stained pink from the cold outside, and it’s a little funny, phenomenal maybe, how Hinata can look like a boy of winter just as easily as he is one of summer. Ah, Tobio thinks, perhaps it is just another reason to call it a love that lasts the whole year round, constant through all the seasons.

Tobio shakes his head. “Hello to you too,” he says, adjusting his position so that it’s a little more comfortable for Hinata. It’s a little difficult, but it’s not their first time being so close, and he settles with placing his hands on Hinata’s back to rest, also making sure that he won’t just fall off. It feels nice anyway, warm despite the cold of the space around them.

“I got some pork buns,” Hinata says, and Tobio nods, looking over towards where the bag lies in the kitchen. He’s tried many of them, but none will ever taste the way those in Ukai’s store had, summer sweetness and heat on his tongue, sweat on his skin after a long day of practice and the sky bleeding colors into his vision. Maybe he’s just too sentimental for it. “They had a sale on some other stuff too, but I didn’t bring enough money with me.”

He nods in acknowledgement, watching as Hinata places his palms flat across Tobio’s chest to cushion his chin, propping himself up properly. He’s wearing one of Tobio’s old sweaters—having graduated from that old hoodie from high school apparently—and it seems to fit him well enough. Truth be told, Tobio’s fairly certain that half of Hinata’s wardrobe now are things that used to belong to him (or in most cases, _still_ belong to him), but it’s not like he particularly minds. And he can’t really be one to talk that much either—not when the shirt he’s got on is one of Hinata’s bigger ones, long enough for him to fit into, though just the slightest bit snug on the shoulders. What else is he supposed to do when it’s things like these that make him feel like Hinata is close to him?

“Boop,” Hinata says, and Tobio blinks, feeling the finger that Hinata had pressed to his nose. He grins at his partner again, childish and lopsided, and something warm spreads right across Tobio’s chest.

Oh, he reminds himself. He doesn’t really need to care about stuff like that, not when he’s got the real thing right here in front of him.

“What was that for?” Tobio asks. His vision focuses a little clearer, and he finds Hinata smiling at him, that careful, gentle one, an indescribable fondness etched onto its being, almost as though he can’t quite shape what he’s feeling into proper words either. Fond, he might say, but it’s something greater than that, he thinks. Maybe it would be easier to call it love.

“You looked like you were just about to think too hard about something,” Hinata says simply, and the smile remains present on his lips. If this were two years ago, Tobio has a feeling it would’ve been the first to leave, like a stutter or a flicker of the imagination, chased away by the unknown, caught in the crossfire between a break even and a collapse. But it’s different now, isn’t it? Now it knows it’s safe to stay. No more hiding, no more chasing after shadows—here, he lets his feelings spill out into the broad daylight for them both to see. “Also because it’s funny.”

“I wasn’t,” Tobio says back, shaking his head slightly. “But even if I was, what if it was something important?”

“Then you would’ve told me about it already,” Hinata says, and he sticks his tongue out at Tobio. “Besides, you overthink sometimes, you know? And that’s what I’m here for.”

“I don’t overthink,” Tobio says, frowning. “I think just the right amount.”

Hinata laughs, shaking his head. His eyes twinkle in amusement, as cheeky as usual. “Sure,” he says, clearly disbelieving. He’s got that mischievous look on his face now, the kind that tells Tobio that he’s definitely about to be teased for something. “So if you don’t overthink, then why’d it take you _five hundred years_ to confess, huh? And you weren’t even the one who said it first!”

Tobio sputters, his cheeks immediately growing warm. “That wasn’t—five hundred years—that’s different!” he tries to say, scowling, and Hinata laughs again, his laughter ringing loud and full in the apartment. “And like you’re one to talk! You didn’t say anything for years either!”

“But at least I said something _first!_ ” Hinata says, grinning. “That’s gotta be worth _at least_ fifty points, you know.”

“No, it’s not,” Tobio argues back, rolling his eyes. “That doesn’t count.”

Hinata makes a face at Tobio. “You just don’t want to admit it!”

“We are not keeping score for this—”

“Well, in my _humble opinion,”_ Hinata says, waving his hand around and pausing for dramatic effect, that little gremlin, “if a person were to confess to the love of their life after practically going on a date for most of the day, completely sweeping them off their feet, then it totally counts for something. I’ll have you know that it was the scariest thing I’ve ever done!”

“That is _not_ humble _—”_ Tobio starts to say, ready to argue, but then his brain registers everything else Hinata had said, and his mind comes to a screeching halt, feeling his face heat up. “Wait—I’m the—the love of your life?”

Hinata raises an eyebrow. “Didn’t you already know that?”

“No, I…” Tobio begins, but the words die on his tongue. His heart is doing that silly thing again, the one where it skips beats just because of a few words, until it’s done it enough times that it feels like bursting instead, and he can’t really control it. He feels like a soul unraveling, coming undone, past the breaking point. Of course, Tobio was certain of his own feelings; there was no doubt inside him that he thought Hinata was the love of _his_ life, but for Hinata to say it too…well. It’s—it’s more than words could ever say—he feels like goddamn _exploding,_ and the fact that Hinata had expected him to know it—and yes, definitely, Tobio has never felt more loved than when he’s with Hinata, but sometimes it’s a little hard to believe that he gets to have this. Sometimes it feels too good to be true— _he’s the love of Hinata Shouyou’s life_.

Did he already know that?

To be honest, there are a lot of things that Kageyama Tobio does not know.

For one, he’s not very good when it comes to cartography or reading maps, and those who know him well will always be quick to tease him about it. He also doesn’t do that well when it comes to numbers—unless they happen to be related to volleyball in a way, of course—and science is tricky at best and a monster at worst. (He is, however, excellent when it comes to memorizing things that he cares about.) He doesn’t know much when it comes to cooking, either, and he’s only begun to learn a little more about gardening, something that he’s starting to like. Sometimes English is still made of messy syllables in his head, but he can speak the language well enough if asked. He’s also not very updated with pop culture, though he does like listening to a lot of music. When asked, he’ll say that he’s not very good at handling people, still a bit of a struggle when it comes to conversing, but it’s not entirely true anymore—he’s been getting better at it every day, and that effort is enough to call it false. But the greatest thing that escapes his knowledge is the future, and in the unknown that he can’t really see that far into it, what it might have in store for him and the direction that the wind might take him. He knows where he wants to go, what he wants to be doing, but life has always been a little unpredictable, and sometimes even the best laid plans fall apart in the blink of an eye. Sometimes, he just wishes he had the answer.

But there are a lot of things that Kageyama Tobio knows too.

He keeps several truths right on the tip of his tongue, in every crevice of his ribcage, in the skip between heartbeats. There are things that he had grown up learning until he’d memorized it enough to sing it in his sleep, things he’s kept inside of him longer than he’s ever realized; stories and dreams and memories, tucked into the pockets of his lungs and carried on his shoulders. For every little thing that escapes him, he makes it up by keeping something else, regardless of luster, golden and shattered and cracked and beautiful. It doesn’t matter the weight, the grace, or the beauty, but he takes it in his hands and he holds it anyway, the jagged edges against his skin, presses it close to his chest until it softens, until it becomes a part of him too. Once, he’d taken the sun right from the sky and kept a piece of it for himself, let it burn his skin like a forest fire on uneven ground, and shaped it into the evergreen flame of his being. He’d taken the lost sun and tied the strings of his heart around it, keeping it right there and gave it a home. He’d cared for it until it was love.

And love, Tobio knows, is something he’d given a name a long time ago.

Because even though Tobio still gets confused with directions sometimes, not once has he ever gotten lost in the map of Hinata Shouyou’s heart. He’s known it since he was sixteen and foolish, and he’d grown right beside it, shaped himself right next to it, meeting hands halfway to press palms together, fingers interlaced with the promise of a hundred lifetimes together. The numbers he knows best are the scores they keep together, forever a game they both like to play, special and unique and just for them. And though cooking isn’t his best suit, he knows Hinata’s favorite food, and he’d done his best to perfect it to the best of his ability, saving it for the days when the sun hangs low in the sky and he needs a little cheering up. He knows the songs that Hinata sings when he’s watering the plants they’d bought for their apartment, voice like a melody he’s always been attuned to. And sometimes, when the world is quiet and still, when all he can feel is the familiar and well-worn press of a heart against his own, Tobio thinks that there had never been a moment that he was not meant to stand next to Hinata, always capable of handling a golden hurricane of a boy. He thinks about how Hinata’s always been able to understand him even without the right words, and volleyball had been the language to bridge the gap between them when words did fail. He thinks about the future—and even with all the uncertainty that lies ahead, there has always been one constant, and that will never change, not even for a second.

Hinata Shouyou will always be there. It’s a promise made lifetimes ago.

When Tobio thinks of all the things they’ve done for each other, of the way Hinata had spent two years in Brazil to catch up to him, to shape himself into something better—he realizes that not once has Hinata ever been lacking in the love he gives to Tobio, he’s never let a moment slip by that Tobio did not feel it surround him. Because if love isn’t the effort you put in, then what is?

Maybe Tobio did know. He just needed to hear it.

“No, I know,” Tobio says, clearing his throat. His face must be red, he knows, embarrassed and flustered even at something simple. “I just… It felt…it felt nice to hear it.”

“Good,” Hinata says, looking satisfied. He looks happy with himself, nestling into his arms as though he’s always belonged there, the closeness born from years of bridging the distance over and over. Tobio would probably argue that he’s right, if it will keep him there to stay.

“And you’re…” he continues, and it’s a bit of a struggle for his mouth to shape out the syllables, but he wants it to be known and said out loud. He’s never been perfect with words, he knows, but for Hinata he’s always tried his hardest. He’s not looking at Hinata, but he knows Hinata is looking at him, eyes curious and wide. “You’re mine. The love of my life. It’s you.”

“Oh,” Hinata says, looking surprised, but only for a moment—his eyes soften within the next instant, as though he shouldn’t have been shocked at all. Maybe he’s come to the same realization that Tobio had—he can only hope that he’s done enough that Hinata feels the same way. He wants to be able to make that true for him too. He wants to make it something that Hinata would never question, never doubt, not even for a single second. Turn it into the truest thing that he’s ever given in his life.

“It’s always been you.”

There’s a flicker of emotions that pass through Hinata’s face, and it’s a little funny, the way his face turns bright red in a second, eyes wide, almost like he’s trembling. Then he buries his head into his arms, muttering some things that Tobio can’t quite make out. When he lifts his head up again, his eyes peek over at Tobio again, and it might be a mix of the afternoon glow of the sun and his own feelings, and his lips press together into an almost smile, but not quite. There’s something in his expression, close to bewildered but not so straightforward, a mixture of things that Tobio can hardly begin to name.

“Stop looking at me like that,” Hinata mumbles, voice a little muffled and strained from where he’s tucked his chin into his arms, averting his eyes. Tobio thinks he looks adorable, really, flustered and shy, mostly because it’s quite rare to see Hinata like this, when he’s usually the one saying things that make Tobio trip on his own two feet.

“This is how I always look at you,” Tobio says simply, and he isn’t really sure what Hinata means, or what expression he’s making right now—but it doesn’t feel any different as to how he normally looks at Hinata. At least, he thinks so. It’s not something strange, is it? He was just being honest.

But Hinata seems to be going through something, his lips pressing into a wobbly line, his eyes gleaming, and Tobio isn’t completely sure what he’s happening. Hinata’s always been unpredictable—which is probably why he doesn’t really expect the way he rushes forward to bump his nose against Tobio’s, shaking his head like he doesn’t really know what to do with himself. He doesn’t expect all the little kisses that Hinata peppers all over his face, on his cheeks and on his forehead, on the corners of his lips and right above his eyelids.

It’s ticklish enough that it makes him laugh softly, and he hears Hinata giggle, but he doesn’t cease in his attack, cupping Tobio’s cheeks in his hands. He’s got his eyes lit up like the break of dawn, his grin wide, breathing out laughter.

“I,” Hinata says, a little breathless as he presses a short kiss to Tobio’s right cheek, “love,” a second peck to his other cheek, “you,” this time one right on his nose, “ _so much.”_ He kisses Tobio on the forehead before pulling back, a warm and content smile on his lips, his love written all over his face. His gaze makes Tobio’s breath catch in his throat, overwhelmed by the feeling inside of him, filling up his lungs until it’s all he’s capable of breathing. It’s true, Tobio knows, that he will never feel this way for anyone else but Hinata. He could never be able to deny such a thing, not when the evidence is right there splayed out in front of him.

So he supposes that it’s only fair and that it’s his turn to lean closer and meet Hinata halfway this time, pulling him in for a proper kiss, slow and sweet. Sometimes when it’s like this, when the afternoon sun is on their skin and the world is quiet around them, when all that matters is the distance they’ve learned to overcome, millimeters disappearing until there is nothing left—it feels like the first time. Like he is learning the truth for the first time all over again, heart stumbling clumsily in his chest, holding his breath and waiting for the reveal. But the only thing that’s different is that the fear is no longer there, no more nerves that make his hands shake, no more anxious heartbeats—instead, it’s been replaced by certainty, by sureness that this belongs to him (that maybe it always has), by knowing there is more after this. That the story didn’t end even when it was supposed to, that they were both stubborn enough to _hold on_ , _keep writing;_ that the story hasn’t ended until now, and it will continue to go on for the rest of their lives if they can help it.

 _Don’t you see?_ his heart says. _It was never meant to end._

When Tobio lets go, he finds Hinata smiling at him, soft and fond, and his chest aches—a familiar feeling that ‘s almost nostalgic even, reminding himself of days when he had known nothing but it, filling his chest like waves of a great ocean. But the feeling he has now, it’s not quite like it—the ache is different, _gentler_. Like it’s finally found a home and settled down. Finally found peace.

It’s incredible.

With the steadiness that comes with knowing, Tobio takes Hinata’s hands in his, wrapping his fingers around his wrists. His love on his lips, Tobio presses a kiss to Hinata’s wrist, filled with a reverence he cannot even begin to hold. He hears Hinata gasp, and Tobio moves to the other hand for another kiss, rubbing his thumb against the back of Hinata’s hand, like he’s holding something delicate and fragile—though he knows that might just be the farthest thing from true, when these hands are the ones that had pulled him out of the ocean, stronger than any tide. And with each kiss it’s almost like he’s trying to pour in everything he has, for the things he could never find the words for. Tobio has always felt a lot despite the lack of words, and somehow, perhaps by some string that ties them together, Hinata’s always been able to understand each and every one.

(That isn’t to say that Tobio doesn’t speak of his love out loud, of course—he does every single day, the first thing out of his lips in the morning and the last thing before sleep sweeps them away—but right now, in this moment, they have no need for it.)

He places one last kiss to Hinata’s forehead before leaning back down, a smile on his face. His chest feels really warm, all soft around the edges, heart skipping in a pattern as familiar as his own skin—and maybe he would’ve found it a little uncomfortable if he didn’t like it so much, settling into it like he’s returning to his childhood home, where everything is as he remembers them to be. But he’s bigger now, more of himself than he ever was, and he knows not to be afraid of the shadows in the spaces in the walls, of the lightning that echoes around his room. The sunrise will always come back around to put him back on his feet.

Hinata just smiles again, wide and bright, then lies his head down, tucking it into the crook of Tobio’s neck. Like this, he thinks he can feel Hinata’s heartbeat, imagines the way they’re right against each other—maybe they’re even in sync, he tells himself, letting himself believe it even with the chances. They’ve always had a funny way of finding each other and keeping pace without even noticing, after all, and Tobio wouldn’t try calling it impossible.

“Look!” Hinata says, excited and lively, another laugh escaping his lips. Sometimes Tobio swears that his lungs are made less of air and more of laughter, and he tries to keep them safe for the days that fall heavy on Hinata’s shoulders, tucking them into his pocket.

He looks up at Tobio the best he can, his eyes bright as he snuggles closer, the tips of his hair tickling Tobio’s chin. He laughs again, looking extremely happy with himself. “I fit.”

Tobio nearly chokes on air. “Yeah,” he croaks out, trying to catch his breath. Hinata is just _so cute_ sometimes that Tobio doesn’t really know what to do with himself. And it doesn’t help that he’s completely right about it, and of course Tobio would agree—that he does fit in that space between Tobio’s head and heart, that it’s almost like Tobio’s arms were made to hold Hinata close to him like this. “Yeah, you do.”

“Mhm,” Hinata hums, and Tobio feels the sound vibrate through his own rib cage, a fuzzy sensation spreading inside of him. They lay like that for a couple of moments, Volleyball snoring softly from where she says on the coffee table, and he lets himself relish in the sensation. Between all the volleyball matches and practices (which involves a whole lot of traveling too), they don’t find a lot of moments like this too often. Of course he loves what he does—he’ll die before he ever stops playing volleyball—and he’s sure Hinata is the exact same way, but it’s…nice, he thinks to himself. For just a while, they just get to _be_ —like they’re just two kids who’d found each other and held tight, who rest under the cover of a winter afternoon. They’re just Tobio and Shouyou, nothing more and nothing less, simply themselves.

It would be a perfect afternoon to nap, and Tobio considers letting a dream take him away—but he isn’t very sleepy, and he’d rather be awake enough to savor this feeling anyway. Besides, he doesn’t really mind just lying here, listening to Hinata breathe close to him. With Hinata’s hand in his, Tobio rubs random patterns on the back of his hand, drawing out shapes and letters with no meaning. He hopes it’s soothing, since he enjoys it when Hinata does it, and he likes the way it feels like their hands were made to hold each other. It’s silly, but he remembers wishing for it for so long that it might as well be true enough, and if there’s anything Hinata’s taught him, it’s to be a bit of a believer, even if it’s in the strange things. And well, if Tobio had never believed in the things hope had to offer, he never would’ve found himself where he is now.

And this, Tobio knows, is something he would never give up. It’s a one in a million feeling, and he’s not foolish enough to turn away something so rare, so beautiful. So invincible.

Hinata Shouyou has always been made of sunsets, and Tobio had learned to treasure each one every single day, every golden glimmer and every rosy shine. He had given up his heart to the sky a long time ago, and in return he’d received the sun. He’s never let go since.

“What are you smiling about?” Hinata asks, his voice breaking Tobio out of his thoughts. He looks almost suspicious, curious eyes trained right on Tobio, squinting slightly. There’s a hint of amusement laced in his voice as he props his chin back on his hands, a smile easily gracing his lips.

Tobio just shakes his head lightly. “I’m just happy, stupid.”

Hinata grins, his freckles like stars in the snowy light, and Tobio traces them like constellations. “I’m glad we got here in the end,” he says, his tone soft and gentle. A little wistful, as though he’s remembering something from the years past.

“Yeah,” Tobio agrees thoughtfully. He tries to imagine a timeline where he doesn’t have this—where he’s still lovesick and watching for the skies like the clouds will give him an answer. Watching billboards for a commercial with a fiery haze of orange, his fingers itching by his sides for a hand he can’t hold, the water in his lungs building up as the waves crash across his ribs. Oh, surely it would have been unbearable by now, that ache he held for so long, tipping right over the edge, about to break the glass heart he’s kept it in. That great yearning inside of him—he wonders if he would have reached his breaking point and told Hinata the truth anyway. How much longer would he have been able to keep it inside of him? It’s so much larger than himself, the expanse of countries, more than the heavens could reach.

Would it have even been possible to keep something so phenomenal inside of him for the rest of his life? He feels like it would have burst inside of him, clawing its way out, tearing at his skin from the inside out. Screaming, kicking, and fighting, he would’ve tried so hard to keep them in. But feelings like these aren’t meant to be put away—they’re meant to be _held._ Held like they’ve always been beautiful, like they’ve always been soft-edged, like they’ve always been kind. Like they’ve never been hurt.

And when Tobio had let his feelings loose, Hinata had been nothing but gentle.

“I probably would’ve been really sad otherwise,” Hinata says, like he’d been thinking the same things as Tobio. He sounds almost mournful, a loneliness etched between the words. “Sometimes I wonder what it would’ve been like, you know? If we’d gotten together sooner. If I told you everything from the start.”

Tobio nods in understanding. He’s thought about that before too, of course—what it would’ve been like if he had taken the jump, uncaring of the risk, not letting it get in the way. A lot of things would be different, that’s for sure. Maybe he would be happier. Maybe he would be better. Maybe he wouldn’t be the way he is now at all. There’s a lot of _maybes_ , and sometimes they don’t seem like very good ones. And although sometimes he does like to think about what it would’ve been like to be with Hinata earlier—high school sweethearts with chocolates on Valentine’s Day, exchanging second buttons on graduation, making bento boxes and writing confession letters, holding hands on the way home—he knows the allure is only there for a moment, while the warmth of a person next to him is constant.

Because he probably wouldn’t feel this way, this _strongly,_ if it weren’t for all the things they went through. It wouldn’t feel as sweet, as wonderful, as fulfilling to have what they have now—like he said, a lot of things would be different, and Tobio wouldn’t dare take the chance to feel any less than he does now. They’ve been waiting for each other for a long time, and it’s _because_ of that time that makes all of this is even more worth it. It’s because of all the hurt and distance and longing that Tobio knows not to take a single moment of this for granted, to hold onto this love and never let go. It’s because of how long and difficult it took them to get here that he knows to cherish it.

“But then I think about it a little more, and I think that I like this a lot better,” Hinata continues, and sometimes it’s a little scary, just how similar their thoughts can be without even trying (they both sworn that if one of them suddenly became psychic they would tell each other immediately, if only to prevent another confusing Suga-like incident to happen again). But maybe it’s just a symptom of their closeness, of whatever string that pulls them together, and Tobio would frankly like to leave it at that. It makes them a good _team_ , and that’s more than he could ever hope for.

He places the palm of his hand against Tobio’s cheek, his eyes softening with the gentlest touch. “‘Cause when you really think about it, it doesn’t really matter how long it took. I mean, tons of people take years before they find the right person! But with you, it’s like—sure, it took a bit of time to find you, but ever since then you’ve always been by my side, so I never really had to go looking for too long, you know? And even if it took us a while to get to where we are, what’s really important is that we’re here together now. Nothing else matters except what we have now, and I wouldn’t ever want to change that. Does that make sense? Ah, it probably doesn’t, huh? It’s okay, Bakageyama, you can laugh—”

“It makes sense,” Tobio blurts out, stopping Hinata in his tracks. His partner looks at him in surprise—before it melts away to give way to a small smile. Perhaps it’s because Hinata knows by now that Tobio will always try his best to understand whatever he’s saying—he’s been doing it for years, after all, beginning with each and every _gwah_ and _pwah_ Hinata had sent his way. “I think it makes sense. I get it. It’s the same for me too.”

Tobio had been awfully lonely before Hinata had stumbled into his life to make a mess of things, and ever since then he’s never felt alone at all.

“I like the way we are,” Tobio says, trying to clarify what he means. How does he tell Hinata that he wouldn’t trade this lifetime for any other, especially if he wasn’t in it with him? “I don’t care about all the other ways it could have gone except the one we have now. I like _us_.”

There’s a beat of silence before Hinata is smiling, genuine before Tobio catches a glimpse of something mischievous underneath, quick and teasing.

Hinata shifts forward, moving a little closer to Tobio. “Oh, yeah? So does that mean you’re gonna admit that I deserve fifty points for confessing first?”

Tobio groans and rolls his eyes. Of course Hinata would take an opportunity like this to turn it into something lighter. “No, dumbass,” he says, breathing out an exasperated sigh. He hears Hinata laugh, and he can’t help the fondness that surges through him at that moment, still too soft for his boy of summer.

“Oh, come on!” Hinata says back, poking at Tobio’s arm. “Please?”

“It’s been ages since then already, stupid. You just want the extra points because you’re behind,” Tobio replies, giving Hinata a flat stare. It seems as though he’s hit the mark, because Hinata sticks his tongue out in protest, squeezing his eyes shut. “And if anything, I should be the one getting the points for it.”

Hinata scoffs. “What? No way! You only confessed after I did!”

“Yeah, but I almost did, remember? Before you left for Brazil.”

“That doesn’t count! You didn’t say it!”

“And what? Your drunk ass calling me at a wedding counts?” Tobio retorts back.

Hinata turns bright red. “You promised we’d never talk about that again!”

Tobio grins, fully intending on teasing Hinata for it. He’d been a little embarrassed when he told Hinata about it the first time—apparently Hinata didn’t remember any of it—but now that the initial mortification is gone, he’s free to use it to his advantage. “What was it that you said? That my eyes look like the sky?”

Hinata groans, punching Tobio on the shoulder lightly. “Shut up,” he says, but there’s the smallest hint of a smile on his face despite his words, so Tobio knows that he’s fine with it. “I mean, obviously I still do think they look like the sky—but that’s not the point! I definitely win, and you just don’t want to admit it!”

“Shouyou, you’re not gonna get points for confessing first,” Tobio tells him, trying to manage something serious despite the laughter that remains loose on his lips. “It doesn’t count.”

“Fine, fine,” Hinata says, sighing loudly. He rests his cheek against his palm, squishing the left side of his face. With a light shrug of his shoulders, he adds, “Guess there’s always the proposal anyway.”

Tobio chokes on air. It’s just like Hinata to go ahead and talk about marriage a moment after talking about dating, and while Tobio _obviously does not oppose,_ something about it makes the breath catch in his lungs, his heart beating madly. They’ve talked about before, things like what happens in the future, where they want to live and what they’ll do, but it never stops catching him off guard. Right there and then, Tobio resolves to be the one to propose first, to be the one to sweep Hinata off his feet this time around. Points or not, he’ll be the one to do it.

“Hey, Tobio,” Hinata says, and Tobio hums in acknowledgement, turning back to face Hinata from when he’d looked away, surprised by what he had said earlier. “I thought of a way for me to earn more points.”

Tobio raises his eyebrow, already feeling suspicious and wary. Hinata’s always got too many tricks up his sleeve, a gremlin constantly up to no good. “What is it?”

Hinata doesn’t say anything—he just grins sharply, the deadly, mischievous kind that Tobio’s learned to fear. But before he can even begin to open his mouth and ask Hinata what he’s up to, Hinata’s launches forward to tuck his hands to Tobio’s sides, slipping his fingers close to his waist. _Oh,_ Tobio thinks instantly.

It’s a _tickle_ fight.

Unfortunately for Hinata, Tobio never backs down from any kind of fight, so naturally, he retaliates back quickly. It’s a little hard when he keeps wheezing, making it difficult to breathe and focus, but Hinata’s giggling just as much, gasping in between breaths as he tries to swat Tobio’s hands away.

“Stop, Tobio, that’s not _fair_ —”

“You started it!”

And it’s stupid, Tobio knows. It’s a childish and immature thing that they’re doing, but he can’t bring it in him to care. This is the most he’s laughed he’s a long time, and of course Hinata has to be involved. He thinks back to earlier, and now he’s more certain than ever—he really wouldn’t give any of this up for the whole _world_ , this gentle and strong and invincible thing they have, shaped for quiet afternoons and ready for screaming crowds and blinding spotlights. They’ve both waited for this for so long, and all that time is just what makes the simple things they do even more sweet and meaningful. It makes him want to keep this for the rest of his life, to stay like this forever, to remind Hinata that he’ll always be there over and over. To keep this constant even when everything else changes. He’ll take anything that comes their way—so long as he gets to keep this. He wants to stand where his waves meet Hinata’s shore, to count each freckle on Hinata’s face and memorize it, to trace each scar on his skin and give it a home. He just wants this.

It’s an indescribable feeling, knowing you can finally keep the one thing you’ve been waiting for since the beginning. Tobio can’t begin to put it into words.

Eventually, Hinata claims victory when Tobio can’t keep up, completely breathless and exhausted. Hinata kisses him as a consolation prize—Tobio will never admit it, but as cheesy as it sounds, he feels like a winner anyway—and they tuck themselves back into the winter afternoon. Hinata boasts about his score, only three points behind Tobio now, but Tobio just shakes his head and reminds him who’s still in the lead. Hinata remains undeterred as always, commenting on how he’s always been the master of tickle fights, and that he’ll definitely win next time too. Tobio retorts back that he’ll obviously be doing the same, and there’s no doubt that he’s determined to make good on his word. Though he has a feeling that he won’t mind that much even if he doesn’t win, not for a lack of competitive spirit of course, but because of something else he has in mind. Something that terrifies and excites him all at once, lighting him up from the inside out.

Because it’s just like Hinata said—there’s always the proposal.

In the end, they both end up proposing to one another. They’re back in their sunset town in Miyagi, standing at a familiar streetlight as the sun descends behind their backs when Kageyama gets down on his knee and brings out the ring from his pocket, his hands the shakiest they’ve ever been. Hinata’s eyes grow wide and he doesn’t say another word until he’s tugging out a ring of his own, holding it out for Kageyama to see. There’s a moment before they both burst out in laughter, holding onto each other tightly, the birds singing an old song for them to listen to. Kageyama slips the ring onto Hinata’s finger, and Hinata does the same to him, both their cheeks stained pink and glowing underneath the candy cotton skies. Neither of them can stop smiling after that.

(They both agree to count it as a tie.)

Hinata thought he knew this story. He was wrong.

He’d thought that it was something he already knew, something he had seen before it even began. He’d convinced himself that he could stop it, close the book before it could reach the ending. Told himself that it was a tragedy—because tragedies could only come out of having something so beautiful that it became too much to handle, that it had to be taken away from the hands of two countryside boys. And he knew for certain that they did—he had felt it in the echoes of his ribcage, in the city lights that danced on winter nights and in the shores of summer afternoons, that what they would have would be something devastatingly invincible. He’d known it from the moment he fell, unlocking the door to love and walking right in without even realizing it. He’d known that it could destroy them just as easily as it could care for them, and he didn’t want to take that risk. He wanted to keep this love by his side even if it meant holding it at arm’s length, keeping distance to hold back the words on his tongue. So it only made sense, he thought, to rewrite it. To shape the ending into something gentler, into something where he could still salvage the wreckage. He changed it to keep them both safe, to make it painless for him and a boy with ocean-glass eyes—except it still hurt, didn’t it? It still hurt even when he rewrote it, even when they both did. The story wasn’t what he thought it would be.

But here’s what he got right:

It’s the kind of story where falling in love is not a memory, but rather a constant action, something found in the present despite what the past believed and what the future may have, done even without knowing. It’s a story filled with rose-colored skies and white-gold sunlight, hands brushing with just the barest of inches to keep them apart, stolen glances that can’t help but hope. Within it are words that spell themselves into quiet confessions, sung to the tune of yearning, lovelorn and nervous and bold all at once. Even with oceans and mountains and valleys to keep the distance, it survives over and over again, never dying out, always coming back for one last stand. It chases after the wind and refuses to give up on the stars, watches the clouds and counts them as though they’re shaped like promises. This is a story about finding something unbreakable, the kind that lasts for all seasons and throughout the years, that has seen it all from beginning to end. It’s seen honesty and hope and beyond them, for what they are and what they could be. It’s not something that can be mistaken for anything else but what it is.

This is a love story.

It’s a love story, and Hinata had known it long before he’d come to accept it. He’d been afraid of what it would mean to admit it, but he’d also been wrong to think it could be anything else. It had taken some time before he realized the truth, before he’d finally let go of the breath he was holding and saw the sky before him, and from that moment onwards everything had fallen into place. Because after all that time, after all he’d done and after how long they’ve both waited—there wasn’t anything left to lose, was there? There wasn’t anything left to be afraid of.

Because even if he didn’t know much, he knew Kageyama Tobio, and that had to be enough. It had to be enough that he tried, that he did everything he could, that he had met a lonely heart similar to his own and took care of it, learned the rhythm of its beating so that he could match it. It had to be enough that he was _honest_.

And what a thing it was, for him to finally say the words out loud, hands shaking and heart thundering, only to hear the same thing come from the sky-eyed boy’s lips.

Back then—they had named the promise invincible, hadn’t they?

And now here they stand, on the brink of a new beginning, the story rewritten to let them reach each other, souls keeping pace as they race their way towards the future, stumbling and laughing with their hands held together. Here they are now, on a spring day with the world awakening, the sky bright blue and wide, filled with clouds that mark the way home. Here they are, the same they’ve always been but so much more. They’d taken the tragedy and gave it a better ending, finding themselves the same as they’ve always been but so much more. They’ve come a long day since that first day, when the sun streaked itself orange and the idea of _someone better_ had begun. A promise of a lifetime fulfilled right before their eyes, and now they’re ready to make another.

“I don’t think we’re supposed to be here,” Hinata says when he finds Kageyama outside, his hands tucked into his pockets. His posture is relaxed, gaze looking towards the cherry blossom trees, the pink leaves scattered around his feet. He looks as beautiful as always, Hinata thinks, and when Kageyama turns around for him to meet those sky-eyes, he doesn’t think anything could be any better than this.

Kageyama looks at him, and Hinata takes him in standing there with his jacket on, hair brushed neatly and his eyes shining. There’s a flower pinned to his lapel, an orange one to match the blue one Hinata’s wearing. The ends of his lips twitch upwards into a small smile, and he shrugs, turning back to face the view as Hinata takes the space by his side. Their hands find each other almost immediately, a reflex, and Hinata rubs his thumb over the callouses on Kageyama’s hand.

“Yeah, probably not,” he says, but he doesn’t look the slightest bit worried. “We’re not supposed to see each other before the ceremony, either, I think. That’s what Yachi said.”

Hinata sends a silent apology into the air in the hopes that Yachi will forgive them if she finds out. She’s been really helpful and supportive about all of this, and with how awful both he and Kageyama can be when it comes to organizing big things like this, she’s really done so much for them.

“I just wanted to see you,” Hinata says simply with a smile of his own. “Are you nervous?”

Kageyama raises an eyebrow. “Not really. Are _you_?”

“A little,” Hinata admits, sheepish, a small laugh escaping his lips. He sees Kageyama’s forehead crease by just a smidge, and he quickly adds, “But not about you, of course, you know that. Just about the ceremony. Weddings are pretty big, and we’ve been planning it for months. I just want it to go well.”

“Me, too, I guess,” Kageyama says, squeezing Hinata’s hand softly. Hinata grins at him, feeling his heart swell up at what today will bring for them. He knows that Kageyama doesn’t really care much for a grand ceremonies like this—he even said he’d be fine marrying Hinata with just paper rings, and he didn’t really care where—but Hinata had been interested in having a proper one, mostly because he’s always wanted to be able to say his vows. It’s nothing that Kageyama doesn’t already know, but it’ll be nice all the same. He’s pretty excited about slow dancing with Kageyama too.

It’ll make a good story, won’t it?

Because there’s only a few things Hinata’s been certain of in his whole life, and Kageyama Tobio is one of them. He wants to be able to say that too, to let him know that he’s staying for good, and that no matter what distance or time will try to do to them, it will be nothing compared to what they have. They’ve conquered it before, and they’ll be ready for when it comes at them again. There’s nothing they can’t handle, not if they’re together.

“Hey, Shouyou,” Kageyama says, and Hinata looks back up at him to find the ghost of a smile on his lips. He squeezes their hands together again, the tiniest pressure of holding on. There’s something a bit distant in his eyes too, like he’s thinking of something from before. “Do you remember when you drew stars on my hand, right next to my scar?”

Hinata blinks, tugging at his memories. There’s a moment before he remembers, a vague outline of a bedroom and homework laid out before them, a pen in his hand and the warmth of Kageyama’s skin close to him. How young had they been back then? He remembers being a little nervous—he must’ve stil been new to love at that point. Still a little foolish and reckless, daring enough to take a step closer, but still too far from the line in between.

“Yeah,” Hinata says, curious. “Yeah, I remember. Why?”

Kageyama takes a breath before he answers. “You told me that the stars would help me find my way back home,” he says, and Hinata rubs against that spot, trying to remember right. The scar is long gone now, but the memory remains. “But when you did that back then, I remember thinking that I didn’t need the stars,” Kageyama tells him. “Because I already had you.”

Hinata’s eyes widen, and he feels his heart pound inside of his chest. There’s a rush of something inside of him, overwhelming and bright, so the only thing he can think to do is punch Kageyama’s shoulder. “Stupid,” he says, but he can’t stop a smile from growing on his face. “You’re supposed to save that kinda stuff for the vows, not say them to me now!”

“You didn’t have to hit me so hard,” Kageyama mutters, his nose all scrunched up as he rubs at his arm. He shoots Hinata a look, who only gives him a half-apologetic smile in return. Kageyama rolls his eyes, exasperated but fond. “Will you let me finish at least?”

Hinata hums, pretending to think. Kageyama shoots him a look, and he snickers, nodding. “Okay, okay, go on.”

Kageyama’s face changes in that next instant, like he’s just realized the entirety of what he was about to say and now he’s embarrassed. The tips of his ears go pink, and his lips press together, until something gives way and determination crosses his face. “I guess what I just wanted to say was,” he begins, his gaze averted, and Hinata thinks that it’s awfully cute, how flustered he can get even when they’ve known each other for so long now. He takes a deep breath and his eyes find Hinata’s, the sky meeting the sunset. “I didn’t really know what it meant to spend forever with someone,” he says. “Until I met you.”

This time, Hinata’s first instinct is to rush forward and wrap Kageyama in a hug. Their suits might crease, and Miwa’s probably gonna have to fix his hair again last minute, but he honestly doesn’t really care—he feels like bursting, and the only thing he wants to do is kiss Kageyama senseless and put those rings on already.

“Shouyou—” Kageyama says, sounding a little strained, probably with how tight Hinata’s hugging him, but Hinata doesn’t lessen his grip one bit.

“Tobio, you big dummy,” Hinata says, voice a little muffled from where his face is pressed against Kageyama’s chest. “I can’t wait to spend forever with you too.”

He feels Kageyama wrap his arms around him, and they stay like that for a couple of moments longer. Kageyama leans his chin on the top of Hinata’s head, warm and familiar, and Hinata doesn’t know how to describe the way he feels without crying. At this rate, he’s probably not going to survive the wedding—but that’s okay, he thinks, because his family and friends will be there. _Kageyama_ will be there, and that’s all he could ever want. It’s everything he could ever need.

When Hinata does step back from the embrace, his hand finding Kageyama’s once more, he uses his free hand to point up to the sky, up to the heavens above them. Kageyama seems to understand almost immediately, shaking his head while a smile finds itself on his lips, close to a laugh. Hinata grins, and squeezes their hands together.

“So?” he asks. “What do you think?”

“A cat,” Kageyama says decisively, looking up at the cloud in serious consideration. “Though it might be a frog too. The one next to it looks like a star.”

“Yeah, I think so, too,” Hinata says with a nod. “And the one next to it…a bird, do you think?”

“A crow,” Kageyama says, and both of them smile, knowing exactly what that means. It’s been years since then, but if there’s anything they remember with clarity, it’s the days they spent growing from the ground up, made from the concrete and into the sky. They wouldn’t be who they are without it.

“We should probably head back before they start looking for us,” Hinata says after a couple moments, tilting his head in the direction he’d come. “It’s going to start soon.”

Kageyama nods, and he squeezes Hinata’s hand one more time for good measure. “Don’t be nervous,” he says, gentle. For a moment, Hinata thinks that he looks even younger, back to that child in him who had learned of love the first time. Back to the boy in the gym during graduation, who’d looked at Hinata and told him one thing with the most certainty he’d ever heard. “I’ll be there.”

Hinata smiles. Standing up on his toes, he leans close to press a quick kiss on Kageyama’s lips. “I love you. I won’t be going anywhere either.”

“Yeah,” Kageyama says, smiling. “I love you too.”

Because if there’s anything that Hinata knows about promises, it’s that you’re supposed to keep them no matter what. And he might have been a little too reckless then, too young to fully understand the meaning of his own words, but when he’d told the boy king that he would make it to the top of the world, that he would become someone better—he had meant it. He had meant it with every fiber of his being, and he had been determined to keep it. In return, Kageyama had waited, had pushed him and stood by him, had loved him, and he’d held onto the other end of the promise. It had been long and difficult, and the years when time and distance kept them apart had left them stranded at sea, but they’d found their way back to each other, just like they had before, and just like they always will. They’d met each other on the shore, where the skyline held them close, where they let the truth finally unfold, rewritten. And in that truth they know that their heart lines will always be tied together, whether they’re next to each other or oceans away, no matter where they are. They will always be connected.

This is still a love story, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the end!!!! thank you so so so much for reading!!!!! <333
> 
> you can also find me on [tumblr!](https://superish.tumblr.com)


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